It's My Life
by Hadley Natsworthy
Summary: I don't know, just read it. OCs galore! T for language
1. I'm Bad at Intro Chapters

**AN: Hi! So I don't know what I'm doing, this is just a fic I'm writing over the summer for fun.**

 **Chapter One - Mercy**

It's some unfortunate circumstance that puts me in England. My parents died. In a motor accident, right before I turned 13. Now I'm being transferred to Hogwarts because the only relative I have lives in Scotland, and somehow I'd rather live alone in America than be away from the only home I know. Even though being in America was not the all star experience that some think it to be.

I come in late in the year, and as I sit up in the dorm room, I feel absolutely and completely alone, looking out the window at the other kids dotted around the fields surrounding the lake and the Whomping Willow. It's not that I wouldn't have made any friends, it's that it feels almost like I'm betraying whatever it is I'm holding on to from my old home when I make friends with someone else.

I've been sorted into Gryffindor, which had seemed by far the friendliest house of them all, at first - besides the Hufflepuffs - but I'm late to the party and hadn't come by train, so I never really made it into a group of at least friendly acquaintances. They always say that Hogwarts would be quick to become your home, but Hogwarts has just succeeded in making me miss a home I never really had.

I got the last room in the hallway, which is the one closest to the staircase, and the loudest, with two other girls who I've rarely spoken to, simply because I wake up late and sneak around to the library at night. One's named Aurora, and the other's named Romany, and I don't know anything else about them except that Aurora hates her name.

Walking down from the dormitories and towards the library, someone calls me name. I keep walking, dearly hoping that it isn't someone else come to tease me about being an American and an orphan. If there's one thing that I've learned, is that there's a lot of standoffish and xenophobic people in the general wizarding community. Exhibit A, Lucius Malfoy the seventh year.

"Mercy! Wait!" Peter Pettigrew, of all people, runs up to me and I slow, taking pity on his panting and heaving shoulders. "I... need... help..."

"What?" I ask, temporarily afraid that he'd been hurt, looking him over for any injuries and then finding none.

"With the... transfiguration homework..." he explains breathlessly. "Merlin, I'm so out of shape- but you were walking really quickly."

"You're asking me to help you?" I clarify, wondering where his entourage is.

"Remus isn't here," he tells me, regaining his breath. "And no one else would help me, anyway."

"Oh, um," I look around to check to see that no one's watching, hoping not to further detract from my dignity, but also feeling sorry for him, oddly relating to his lack of friends he feels comfortable asking for help.

I usually get upset when no one helps me, because I'm too proud to ask for help. Peter, however, has no qualms talking to me, which I appreciate, despite Peter's slight character flaw, in which he blindly follows people around and does whatever they want. Still, Gryffindor is for _the brave at heart,_ and _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_ set them apart, so I smile, and nod. "Sure," I agree, and Peter smiles, almost wider than his narrow face.

"Great!" he says. "You don't mind being in the library, do you? I just... don't want James and Sirius to see." He looks uncomfortable for a moment, but I agree, also not wanting anyone to see.

I learn, unfortunately, that Peter is, maybe, not dumb, but definitely a little slow on the uptake. He catches on pretty well, though, it being only second year work, but as we wind to a close, and Peter _finally_ finishes his essay, Sirius and James appear in the library. Peter squeaks and goes to dive behind a bookshelf, but they arrive anyway, looking not really _at_ me, because since when have teenagers ever looked directly at each other when they don't have to?

"Have you seen Peter anywhere-" James asks me vaguely, looking around, "oh, look, there you are. Whatcha doing behind there, huh?" Peter straightens, and frowns a little, embarrassed.

I stand up unobtrusively, almost managing to make it away from the situation, but Sirius reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder, more gently than I'd expect him to, but his expression is still the same insouciant, almost benevolent, smirk, like he's the ruler of the world and one shoulder touch can stop the end of the world.

"Who're you?" he asks, and for a moment I feel flustered. Then I feel annoyed that I feel flustered, and shakes his hand off of my shoulder. He thinks he can go around being the one everyone answers to.

"Mercy Gaffery," I say, cringing at his expression when he hears how American my accent is.

"Ooh, you're the American," he says, excited to find a new point of entertainment, and I flush, turning away to leave, reading for some joke or another.

"Wait! We're sorry. Sheesh," James stops me, "don't be so sensitive."

"I'm not," I retort, "I just don't want to be made fun of."

"Chill," James says, and he, Sirius, and Peter both look at me, waiting for a reaction.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I need to go... do something."

"It's Saturday!" James calls after me, but I make a break for it and manage to get away, preferring not to be involved with the noisy kids. It's a good break, because as I walk out of the library I encounter Carter Natsworthy, Slytherin, and he gives me a breathtaking smile, dusky honey colored skin crinkling at the corners of his blue eyes.

"Hi, Mercy," he says, and every detail of him melts my brain into fuzzy happiness.

"Hi, Carter," I say, and his smile grows a little. He self consciously combs his hair away from his face, and my hand involuntarily moves to touch my own hair as well, but I stop myself.

"You've finished all your homework, I'm guessing?" he asks me, politely starting up a conversation.

"Yeah, just now."

"I wish I could get my homework done that quickly," he sighs. "It takes me the whole weekend to finish. They always assign the most work on Fridays."

"I can help you, if you want," I blurt out, before I can stop myself. He doesn't even seem to notice my chagrin, and nods, as if the suggestion is a good one.

"Good idea, actually. You don't mind, do you?"

"No," I assure him.

"Thanks. I might try to tackle the potions homework tomorrow. Around ten, maybe?"

"Sounds good," I say, almost stammering.

He grins again and walks into the library, nodding a farewell to me. I stand there, right next to the door, feeling kind of stupid for feeling so starstruck, but feeling starstruck all the same.

"I wouldn't get to comfy with him," someone says, with disgust. "Slytherins."

I glare over at Sirius, who leans against the wall beside me, looking at me out of the corner of his eyes.

"What? I would know. My whole family's Slytherin."

"I don't think I believe in stereotyping," I say, stubbornly.

"Yes, but the Sorting Hat puts them into Slytherin for a reason."

"Not all Slytherins are sorted there because they're bad," I insist. "It's just people like you that reinforce unfair class roles. Like house elves. You think you can classify people. Like you classify other living things to be your servants. You of all people should know. Didn't they all think _you'd_ be Slytherin, just because your family is?"

He shakes his head, but doesn't say anything to argue with me. "Are they all like that in America, or is it just you?"

"Considering that my parents were killed because of their beliefs, I'd say it's just me, now," I say.

"So that's why you're here?"

"Yes," I admit, uneasy under his curious stare. "I'd rather not talk about it. My family's more of a mess than you can imagine."

"Believe me, I can imagine," he tells me, unusually serious. (No pun intended)

"No you can't," I snap, stubbornly. "And I don't need you to understand, anyway." And then I just walk away, frowning, with all the self righteousness that a 13 year old can muster.

 **Chapter One - Katica**

My alarm rings.

Not saying that I've never woken up to the sound of my alarm ringing - I've had to get up early for music recitals, I've had to get up to travel. But this is the first time, in my entire life, that I've gotten up to an alarm clock for _school_.

My alarm plays a rendition of the news, and then some Aretha Franklin song comes on. I sit up in bed, catching a glimpse of my trunk in the corner of my room as I do, struck by the sunlight. I'm such a packrat - I've put a lot of junk in it, like lucky quills and pieces of string and marbles and paper clips, and...

 _my wand_

I rocket out of bed, and stand in the middle of my attic room, looking around. I keep losing my wand. I'll leave it somewhere and it'll roll away, or I'll drop it out of my sleeve and I wouldn't be able to find it.

I see it sitting on the windowsill, and sigh in relief as I pick it up.

"Kat!" Carter calls up the stairs. "You're not going to be late, are you?"

"I'm coming!" I yell back, yanking an oversized red jumper over my head, jamming my glasses onto my face (You know, the type they wore in the 80s) and clattering down the stairs. As I rush to get ready, a slow accumulation of random paraphernalia begins to gather behind me, rattling and floating into the air.

"Go away," I tell them, and they all drop to the ground. I have this weird propensity for wandless magic, and it's not only a bother, it's sometimes dangerous.

I manage to get down stairs and eat breakfast with my parents, Remus, and my little brother, who is throwing a tantrum over maple syrup. Remus, who is a family friend and usually crashes over at our house when he doesn't want to be a bum and sleep at his parents house.

Carter's reading the _Daily Prophet_ , hair long and tied up so that his hair drifts down to brush his chin. He drinks black coffee, which smells delicious but tastes terrible, and looks at me over the edge of his paper, eyes blue and teasing.

"First day of school, huh? Excited?"

I nod, mouth stuffed with food, and my plate rattles with excitement. I slam my hand down on it to keep it from moving, cursing my wandless magic. I've broken more plates than you can imagine. I've broken more things in general than the usual eleven year old does.

My dad - Carter - is an auror, and my mum - Mercy - who, by the way, is from America, doesn't work. She's been sort of sick lately, but she's been to the doctor and will get better soon.

And Remus is a werewolf, but according to mum, he's living proof that we shouldn't have to be afraid of someone because of what they physically are, just what their values are and how much they fight for the right things.

Sooner or later we make it in to King's Cross station, with Remus, where we fly through the barrier and load my stuff onto the train, and I'm pretty excited to be away from home. Remus looks around with that sort of grim, sad smile that adults sometimes get, looking over at my mum, and they all bade me goodbye as I get on the train. I barely remember the whole thing; I only remember that as I wave out of the window I realize that maybe I'll miss home a _tiny_ bit.

"Hey," someone says, appearing in my compartment.

"Hey," I say, and we stare at each other, as if we forgot what we were saying. He stands there, clutching onto the door frame to keep from toppling over as the train rattles on. After a long silence, I speak again. "Forget your line?"

"Um," he swallows hard, turning red enough to hide his freckles, "can I sit here?"

"Sure," I say, and he darts into the compartment and sits down across from me, the collar beneath his grey jumper rumpled and only halfway folded.

"D'you know when we're supposed to change into our robes?" he asks me anxiously, voice infused with a thick Scottish accent. "Do you know when we get to try out for Quidditch? I want to be keeper."

"Quidditch?"

"Yeah, you know, the game? D'you like Quidditch?"

"I s'pose," I say, shrugging. "My mum likes the Chudley Cannons and my dad likes the Holyhead Harpies."

"I don't know about the Cannons," he says, wrinkling his nose. "I like Puddlemere United. Do you play?"

"Me? I've only flown around on a broomstick some."

"Well, I love Quidditch - say, what's your name, anyway?"

"Katica Natsworthy."

"Oliver Wood."

He holds out his hand stiffly, and the two of us shake hands solemnly. Then he breaks out into a grin, a tiny gap between his rounded front teeth. "I'm really excited, you know?"

"To start school?" I ask skeptically.

"No, to play Quidditch," he says, like this should be obvious.

"I think you're only allowed to try out in your second year."

"Really? My older brother wouldn't tell me, and he's already out of school. He's a jerk, honestly."

"Can I sit here?" someone asks, interrupting our conversation, slamming open the compartment with more force than necessary. From his expression, I can tell that he also thinks that he'd slammed the door open too hard.

The noise startles me as well, and I can hear something crack behind me. I turn to see a thin web etching itself into the window, and then turn away from it quickly, hoping no one noticed, which no one has.

"Sure," Oliver says, and the boy sits down beside him, hair fiery red, glasses sliding down his nose, and paper white skin splayed with freckles. His glasses are much thicker than mine, and he's already in his robes, which look second hand and already have Gryffindor colors on them.

"I'm Percy," he says. "Percy Weasley." He doesn't shake hands like Oliver did, but exchanges smiles with us, beaming a wide, excited grin at Oliver, then me. We introduce ourselves, returning the grins, and he nods after hearing each name, as if he's studiously committing our names to memory.

"Hang on," Oliver says. "Do I know the Weasleys?"

"Maybe," Percy says. "We're a pretty big family." Then he changes the subject abruptly, as if he doesn't really like talking about his family. "Are you from here?" he asks me. "I mean, you don't sound like it."

"My mum's American," I say, "and I thought her accent was cool, so I use it too."

"Have you ever been there?" he asks me. "I've heard that they have this bloke called Michael Jackson."

"Is he a singer?" Oliver asks. "I think I've heard of him."

"Yep," Percy says. "Bill likes him."

"I think he's pretty great," I say. "My mum likes him, too."

" _My_ mum thinks he sounds worse than what Charlie raises in the back yard," Percy says, with an air of superiority, which annoys me a bit.

"Have _you_ heard him before?" I demand, and Percy hesitates, eyebrows furrowing.

"Well, no," he mumbles. "Not really." Then he stands, the smile crossing his face again. "I'll ask Bill, then. He's a sixth year. You want to help me find him?"

The three of us end up venturing out of the compartment, staggering a little under the train's motion. I walk behind Percy, and Oliver walks behind me, as we walk past compartment after compartment of other students, some of them already in robes, others still in Muggle clothes.

"He's got really long hair that's red like mine." Percy describes, "Oh- there he is... Bill!"

An older student, before us in the aisle, turns, his hair, true to Percy's description, down to his shoulders. He grins when he sees Percy, his face broader and stronger than Percy's- attractively so, eyes dark and expressive with amusement.

"Hi," he says. "Whatcha doing out here?"

"What does Michael Jackson sound like?" Percy demands, and Bill laughs, bemused.

"You want to hear?" he asks, and we all nod. "Give me your wand."

Percy holds his wand out trustingly (something he won't be doing as often when the twins arrive at Hogwarts), and Bill taps his wand point to Percy's. A song begins to play, not loud, but still hearable, and I can recognize the song as "Black or White". Oliver and Percy, on the other hand, look near enraptured. Bill grins, then looks at me.

"Heard it before?" he asks.

"Yeah," I manage to say, not sure how to talk to some older, handsome figure like Percy's brother. He nods sagely.

"The prince of pop," he says seriously, although he looks like he feels like laughing. "Good for you. You must have good tastes in music."

"My mum likes him," I tell him, and he smiles, before straightening.

"That good enough for you?" he asks Percy and Oliver, and they nod. Bill shuts off the music some way or another, and we return to the compartment.

"Maybe he's not _that_ bad," Percy admits. "But still a bit weird."

The lunch lady comes by, a little later, but only Oliver buys anything- I don't have any money on me, because my money always seems to vanish, and Percy dolefully holds up a peanut and butter jelly sandwich. When Oliver sees that we don't buy anything, he buys more things, so that we can split the mounds of candy and food between the three of us.

"Thanks," I say, finishing Percy's sandwich- peanut butter and jelly being both my and my dad's favorite- and Oliver catches a chocolate frog before it leaps out of the compartment. The three of us sit there, eating candy and talking.

Mostly arguing. Mostly Percy and Oliver arguing, about the Sorting or whatever. I can join in with that, because I've been taught that not all Slytherins are sorted in because they're bad. It's just other people that reinforce unfair class roles. My dad's a Slytherin, after all.

"Hang on," Oliver says, changing the subject back to Quidditch again, which is his obvious first love. "Your brother's the captain of the Quidditch team, isn't he?"

"Charlie? Yeah. He's pretty good," Percy says off handedly. "All my brothers have done something or another. Except the twins and Ronald, but that's because they're all under 9. I'm going to do something greater than that. I want to work for the ministry or something."

"Since is when the Ministry better than Quidditch?" Oliver wrinkles his nose, a gesture that becomes familiar to Percy and I soon enough.

"Quidditch is just a game," Percy says offhandedly, and Oliver looks affronted, eyebrows rising high on his forehead.

" _Just a game?_ You think Quidditch is just a game?"

"We all have our own ideas," I cut in, before Percy can retort. After a few moments of silence, Oliver grins easily at us.

"It's no big deal," he agrees. "Quidditch or... or the Ministry." He resists the urge to wrinkle his nose again. "Anyway, you said before that you don't mind being in Slytherin, Katica?"

"No," I say adamantly. "My dad was a Slytherin,"

"Really?" Oliver asks. "You never struck me as a Slytherin."

"Well, my mum was Gryffindor," I say with slight pride.

"I'm probably going to be Gryffindor, too," Percy says gloomily. "My whole family's Gryffindor, you know."

"I don't know if the red hair would fit anywhere else," I tease, but Percy bristles slightly. "Don't worry," I say hastily. "I think your hair's magnificent."

Percy has this weird thing about his family. He wants to be better than them, because he wants them to be proud. He wants everyone to see him being great, so he tells people what to do all the time so that they'll pay attention to him and think that he knows more than they do.

But he also really doesn't like sticking out, or rocking the boat, or being something my mother always called "being a freethinker", and my dad calls "being left wing". And Oliver, he just really likes Quidditch. I can foresee he and Percy arguing a lot. I don't really mind- I was afraid that I wouldn't make any friends on the train.


	2. I'm still Bad at Intro Chapters

**HAVE YOU SEEN THIS FIC?**

 **I need help finding one fic in particular I read a while ago... and you know how hard it is to find fics if you've forgotten to favorite them.**

 **I recall that is was a completed fic... something about Sirius Black falling in love with an OC, and as Voldemort rises to power the OC is captured and tortured until she goes insane and is admitted to St. Mungo's (It's not as dark as it sounds, I swear, but it was really sad and I feel like a good cry right now.)**

 **Help would be appreciated :)**

 **Mercy**

Ten o'clock has not even swung around, the next day, and I find myself waiting in the library, fidgeting as I read, glancing up every now and then. The sun falls over my shoulders and onto the pages of my book, and the library is pleasantly cool.

"Waiting for something?" Someone drops into the chair beside me, and I frown in surprise at his appearance.

"Sirius!" I say disapprovingly, as loudly as I dare around the librarian.

He blinks at me a few times, without saying anything, and a sort of puzzled frown graces his features for a moment. "What?" he asks, as if I had just spoken another language.

"What?" I ask back, and we stare at each other, confused.

"What did you just say?" he asks me, not accusing, really, with more of a fascinated sort of confusion. "Before you said 'what', I mean?"

"I said your name?" I reply cautiously.

"Say it again," he demands, leaning towards me to hear better.

"Sirius?"

"Ah!" he says, snapping his fingers and grinning. "Your accent. I _like_ it. Say it again." I just stare at him, shaking my head, and he smiles, flipping his hair out of his eyes and shrugging. "Didn't expect you to, anyway. American as you are."

"Don't stereotype me," I say.

"You're stereotyping yourself!" he protests.

"Shhh..." the librarian hushes us.

"You don't even know what Americans are like! You can't really anyway, we're all pretty different. Not so for you people, you're all the same, once you get down to it-"

"Once you get started you ever stop, do you?" Sirius asks me, amused. He leans towards me, elbows resting heavily on the table. "Talking?"

"I don't think you should pass judgement on someone until you know someone better," I tell him, leaning forwards as well. "I also think you should go away."

"Is that Slytherin coming?" he asks me benignly.

"Stop calling him that. Use his name," I order. "Don't objectify people."

"You really like telling people off for things they don't know they're doing, don't you?" he teases, grin widening at my glare. "Very well, American. You're meeting up with Natsworthy, then?"

"I am," I say, more imperiously than I'd like to.

"Dunno why you like him," Sirius complains. "You should hang out with us. We're loads more fun, in case you haven't noticed."

"Listen, why are you here?" I ask, annoyed. "What do you want?"

He ducks his head closer. "You don't happen to know that Lily Evans, do you?"

"No," I say. "Why?"

"I've got this suspicion, you know," Sirius says. "I've been watching James a bit, and what do you know, I think he fancies her."

"Do you?" I ask, uninterested.

"Of course I do, you don't think I know my best mate?"

"I don't know, I don't really know you or James."

"But I was thinking, you know, just getting ready for the future, us being only second years, I think it'd be...prudent to eventually get on her good side."

"You want me to be James' wingman?"

"No, _I'm_ the wingman," he says. " _You're_ my partner in crime. Come on, it'd be fun." He pauses, then looks at my expression. "Okay, maybe not _your_ idea of fun. But it'll grow on you, don't worry. Like devil snare." His expression indicates that he's pleased with his metaphor, but I'm not as impressed and start to protest.

"But-" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"You don't have friends as it is," Sirius says. "It'll be good for you."

"Don't tell me what's good for me," I snap, irritated that my lack of friends, and the fact that it bothers me, is so obvious to him. "You're not my mother. She's dead, anyway."

"Good," he says nonchalantly, ignoring my protests. "I'll meet you back here next week, same time, for a report? Just make friends, Mercy, that's all I'm asking. It'll come in handy. You'll be in the middle of all the fun, and you'll be glad you listened to me."

"But-"

"Alriiight, see yoooou," he sings, getting up.

"Come back here!"

"Goodbyeeeee!" he sings out in a shockingly high falsetto, like the little boy from _The Sound of Music_ and even the librarian looks surprised, eyebrows almost as high as Sirius' voice, so surprised she forgets to shush him as he flees the room. I resist the urge to laugh, which is an entirely unsuccessful endeavour, and Sirius flashes me a grin before he leaves, infuriatingly pleased with himself.

Carter Natsworthy appears a few minutes later, and I'm grateful that he had not arrived when Sirius was still in the room. Merlin only know what Sirius would have said; would have done. He sits down across from me, smiling as he does.

"Hallo," he says, opening up his textbook with a sigh. "I've just got to crack down on this and get started. It's not that I don't _know_ anything, I just don't know how to _say_ it right. I hate essays."

"Well," I say, swallowing awkwardly, as he looks up at me expectant for a reply. "Write down the things you want to say. Like in note form? Then you can organize them better and write about them, I guess?" It comes out as more of a question, but he reaches down and takes out a piece of parchment. After a few minutes of scribbling and me awkwardly returning to my reading, he looks up.

"What are you reading?" he asks, setting his quill surreptitiously down, and he looks at his half written essay with some mild sort of dread.

"The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," I say, embarrassingly embarrassed. "It's... um, a Muggle book." Curse an attractive boy for making me conscious of class divisions between aristocratic (and mainly Slytherin) purebloods and the normal, non-wizarding community.

"Is it any good?" he asks, obviously not as perturbed by the Muggle-ness as my book as i thought he'd be. I relax, and admonish myself for being stupid.

"I like it," I shrug. "I don't know if you would."

"What's the main character's name?"

"Arthur Dent."

"Sounds good enough for me," he laughs, and the sound slides deliciously over my ears. I smile as well, and the two of us look straight at each other for the first time. I mean, I've looked at him before, and he's looked at me before, but I don't think we've ever looked straight at each other, in the face, eye to eye.

A lot of discovery can come from looking at someone in the face. You can realize that someone is less attractive than you thought, or more attractive than you thought. Or that they have the look of an ordinary person and doesn't have the pixie dust you envisioned that they had on them, or that they are not -in fact- an ordinary person and really seem to have pixie dust scattered in their eyes and freckles.

What I discover from Carter Natsworthy's face is that he's sort of empty. I can see the freckles and his sculpted cheeks and his straight nose and perfectly pale lips, but I can also see gunmetal, grey eyes, flushed with blue. And his eyes are the ones that scream _despair_ more than any other part of him, more than his tilted eyebrows and his curvaceous smile, and his long dark lashes.

He has a slight crease between his eyebrows that deepens with his emotion, and his eyes are a vivacious mixture of shades, and they're happy, but they're not enthralled. They lack a certain intensity of emotion, which seems to me to indicate that there's something wrong, that there's something that happened to him, that he is hurting, or maybe something he's hiding, and I have no idea what it is.

It bothers me a bit, that there's something I don't know about it, because doesn't that mean that in a way, Sirius was right? That there's something deeper to him, the " _Slytherin"_ , and I should be at least a little bit careful?

"You have a scar on your eyebrow," Carter tells me, as if I didn't know, and I lift a hand to cover it, self consciously turning that side of my face away from him.

"Oh, that. It's from the accident," I say awkwardly.

"The accident?"

"The one that killed my parents."

"Ah," he looks down. "Sorry."

An awkward silence stretches between us, until sections of it begin to pull apart into gaping holes, and we settle back into steady conversation, between him doing his homework and me reading.

Once finished, he packs his things away and looks out of the window. "So, you mind planning next week, same time?" he asks me casually, and my heart leaps up into my throat.

"Sure," I agree, as calmly as I can, before remembering that Sirius has also said he'd come to library at the same time, and wondering if I could reschedule, but Carter starts talking before I can suggest it.

"Nice day," he comments, looking at the back field and then at me. "Care to share it with me?"

"What?"

And so begins the awkward friendship, one I honestly don't regret forming, which is more than I can say about some of my other friendships.

Choice among them is my friendship with Lily Evans. Now, I'm not complaining about Lily herself, what I'm really complaining about is Severus. And if you've ever experienced the wrath of a lovestruck, possessive friend, you'll know what I experienced, and all I can tell you is that I'll be enjoying probably the best friendship I've ever had, and then I'll turn around and there will be Severus, glaring at me with all the cave-dwelling, battish, hate he can muster.

"What?" I ask him one day, and he glares even harder at me, if that's possible.

"What do you mean, what?" he snaps, crossing his arms.

I straighten the edges of my homework, sliding it back into my bag as we're sitting outside beside the lake. The wind ruffles across the glassy water, and a tentacle of the squid appears for a moment.

I shake my head and sigh, flopping back onto my back. "It's not Sunday, is it?"

"I'm afraid it is," Lily says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "Why? Got detention, Gaffery?"

"I wish," I say. I've got to go to the library at ten to help Carter Natsworthy with his homework."

"Oh, but you like him, don't you?" she teases gently. "Don't pretend to be upset about it, you liar. I bet you're more than excited. He is attractive, and you know you're the first one to admit."

"Well, yeah," I say reluctantly, blushing slightly. "I just don't know what to say to him sometimes."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, people like to give me a hard time. Me being the odd one out and him being a Slytherin."

"There's nothing wrong with being a Slytherin," Lily says, looking over at Severus. A tiny smile appears on his face, which in itself is a rarity. "And there's nothing wrong with you. Being the odd one out isn't bad."

"No, I know there's nothing wrong with it," I hasten to explain. "Some people just think different."

Lily's eyes narrow, suddenly alerted to the tone of my voice. "It's not Potter and- "

"Sirius? Yeah. How'd you guess?" I ask sarcastically. "He's being insufferable! And he doesn't leave me alone, even though he _knows_ I want him to."

"I didn't know you were on first name basis," she says, curious, and I frown slightly. We just always call people by their first names in America, and sometimes I forget that it's different in Hogwarts. "Plus, he just likes you, that's all. Sirius is like a puppy. He wants to be your friend." She laughs slightly, and for a moment we all envision Sirius as a big, friendly dog, fur fringing over his eyes like his bangs do.

"I don't _want_ him to like me!" I continue, sitting up. "I want him to leave me alone!"

"I know what you mean," Lily sighs. "Case A: James Potter."

I shake my head, crossing my arms. "Don't you complain, Lily Evans. James is head over for you! You deserve the attention, if anything."

"What are you talking about? No one deserves James Potter's affections."

"No, I mean, someone actually is enthralled enough with you that they think about you all the time. I mean, I know that sounds dumb, but a lot of us would like to have someone who takes copious amounts out of their day just to tell you they love you."

"He doesn't love me," Lily tosses out, voice completely normal. "He's just got some stupid infatuation."

"I don't know," I say doubtfully, looking at Severus from the corner of my eyes. "There are other people I know who have 'some stupid infatuation'." Severus turns his glare up to death-inducing level, and I drop the subject, fearing for my quickly dropping rate of mortality as per Severus' glare that could rival Tesla's death ray.

I sigh, pulling the strap of my bag over my shoulder. "Anyway, I'd better head up to the library. See you guys later."

I hate to admit that Sirius was right in that making friends with Lily was a good thing, and that I am being the wingman's partner in crime. I do admire Sirius' ability to identify Lily as the love of James' life so early on, though.

"Oh, _Merceee_ ," someone sings out from behind me, in a deceptively angelic, prepubescent, soprano. Sirius, I have learned, likes to sing in that musical-style, gospel choir bravado, and equally enjoys listening to that kind of music.

"Hey," I say, not needing to slow down for him to catch up to me as we walk towards the library.

"How goes the relations with Evans?"

"Good," I admit. "Except for Severus, but he's always a pain."

"Good, good. We can deal with Severus."

"He's nice," I hasten to add, "he's just been... neglected a bit."

"What do you mean, 'neglected'?"

"You'd know if you took the time to know him better!" I say. "And as your informant, if you aren't willing to get your hands dirty, I think you should defer to my judgement."

Sirius laughs, not unlike Carter Natsworthy's laugh in the way which it slides magnificently over the ears, his laugh a throaty, unrestrained sort of hilarious laughter, in contrast to Carter's amused, smooth, clear mirth.

"Alright, then, informant. I will defer to your judgement," he says decidedly. "And what of her view of James?"

"She thinks he's a prat."

"Hmm," he says pensively, "we need to work on that a bit. James isn't exactly the best one at flirting, you know."

"None of us are experts," I shrug. "I don't know why he thinks it'll work when we're only second years."

"Well, some of us are more expert than most," Sirius says, dramatically flipping his hair out of his eyes. "I would consider myself pretty good at it, wouldn't you say?"

"You're thirteen," I say. "Wait a bit."

"You're thirteen too," he objects.

"I never said I wasn't," I fire back, and he holds up his hands in mock surrender.

"Don't lie, you've felt my charms at one point or another. Anyway, I take my leave, Lady Informant Gaffery." He stops walking, spreads his arms, and sings out a lively, broadway ready, rendition of "Here's to the Night", as I walk into the library, rolling my eyes.

 _Here's to the niiiiights we felt alive_

 _Here's to the teeeears you knew you'd cry_

 _Here's to goodbye_

 _Tomorrow's gonna come too sooooon_

 **Katica**

We get off the train, and I meet yet another Weasley- Charlie, who has just the same shade of flaming red hair as the rest of his siblings. He shakes my hand, not saying much, which is fine by me, I wouldn't know what to say to him anyway.

His hands are thick and calloused, and Oliver looks like he's about to die when he sees him, but stays very, very silent, eyes wide with near hero worship.

"Katica Natsworthy," I say, and he smiles.

"Nice to meet you."

His hands nearly encompass mine, and they're worn with work. He has so many freckles he nearly looks tan, and his hair is not quite as long as Bill's, but still long. He's powerfully built, and the muscles in his arms are layered leanly under his skin. Even though I can see that he's not as attractive as Bill, I fall into one of those childhood crushes one gets on older people.

"Nice to meet you too," I say, pleased that I hadn't exploded something or stuttered.

He drops my hand, and we move apart, in the crowd, but I can see his head, illuminated bright red in the lamplight. Percy and Oliver are talking about something, and I've missed the first part of their conversation, but we fall silent as we clamber onto the boats that take us across the lake to Hogwarts. I can see it, rising out of the blackness, a gothic memory set against mountainous backdrops blackened by the night that has settled over the sky.

Percy is pretty relaxed, but Oliver looks nervous, clenching and unclenching his fists and fidgeting with his robes. We make it to the castle and step out of the boats onto land, following the groundskeeper, who Percy tells me is named Hagrid, up into the school.

The inside is gilded gold and stone, with vaulted ceilings, but nothing too extravagant. We're lead into some room, where a professor stands before us.

"I am Professor McGonagall," she says, "head of Gryffindor house. You will be sorted into your houses alphabetically. Once you hear your name called, you may enter the Great Hall and place the hat on your head. Once it declares your house, you may sit down at your house table." She finishes speaking, and surveys all of us with a stern eye. Her gaze snags on me, as if something about me had bothered her, but she doesn't say anything, just nods and steps out of the room, the list of our names in her hand.

There's a sort of murmur from us, and then we fall deathly silent as the first name is called. Percy leans forward so that he can whisper into my ear.

"You're before Oliver and I," he says. "Hope for Gryffindor! We can be in the same house, then." I smile, turning to him and Oliver, who's shoulders are tensed but is otherwise more relaxed than he had been before.

It seems like my name is called all too quickly.

"Katica Natsworthy?"

I suck in a deep breath and step our into the Great Hall. It's a huge room, with a roof enchanted to give a spectacular view of the sky outside. I barely notice though, as I shuffle towards the chair and don the Sorting hat.

"Hello," I can hear it say, and I'm so surprised that I nearly fall off the chair. The brim of the Hat is just barely held up by the rims of my glasses, and I look at the ground, embarrassed.

The hat chuckles a bit. "Startled you, did I? Let's see... where to put you?"

 _Gryffindor_ , I think, over and over.

"But no," the Hat protests. "Not Gryffindor, my dear. I can already see how that will turn out. Believe me. I've sorted BOTH of your parents."

 _Gryffindor, please, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor..._

"You're needed more in another house. Don't worry, it's a house that can help you master your power. I know where you are going, no debate about it. Yes!"

 _No, I know where you're going to put me, please, I want to be in Gryffindor, I want to actually have friends, please..._

"It's perfect!" the Hat insists. "You're going into... SLYTHERIN!"

The Hat yells out the last part, and I frown as the hat is removed. Looking off to the right, I can see Percy's flaming red hair and Oliver's disappointed expression. I trudge towards the table decorated with green, and sit down as far away from everyone else as I can.

Percy and Oliver both get sorted into Gryffindor, and I duck my head, feeling pretty sucky as the food appears. The food doesn't even seem to be that great, because I'm just sitting at the table, alone, as usual, wishing that I wasn't. My hair sort of falls over one side of my shoulder like a curtain separating me from the rest of the table.

"Hey!" somebody says loudly, and I'm so immersed in my own self pity that I'm startled, and I hear something shatter. Inwardly, I curse my lack of control over my magic, and look up.

I've shattered someone's glass, up at the table where the teachers sit. A man sits there, black hair and black robes completely soaked in whatever had been in the cup. Everyone looks at him, and he glowers darkly around at all of us, gaze resting on me. I freeze, thinking that somehow, he _knows_ it was me.

He easily spells the mess away, though, and I relax slightly, although I imagine that I can feel him glaring at me for the rest of the meal.

"Hey," someone says to me again, and I look over.

"Hey yourself," I say back, unenthusiastically.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know."

The stranger slides across the bench so she can sit in front of me, on the other side of the table. Her hair is dark and perfectly waved, cut to her shoulders, with decisive eyebrows and a small, quizzical mouth. Her eyes are dark grey blue, and they're backlit with sarcastic fire.

"You don't know what's wrong with you?" she asks, curiously.

"No."

"My names Helen Macarthur Flint. People call me Mac, unless I'm in trouble."

"Katica Natsworthy."

"A big name for a little girl. What's your middle name?"

"Hester."

"I'll call you that, then," she says, nodding almost to herself. "So, you're a first year?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Second year. My brother's your age. He's over there, being stupid." She points over to a boy with a serious underbite and laughs at my expression. "Yeah, hard to imagine that he's that ugly when I'm his sister."

I just look at her, and she laughs at me again. "Alright, alright, I'll stop bothering you."

I pick at my food a little more, but she doesn't leave, as she had promised. "So, are you from America?"

"No," I say. "My mom is, and I've picked up her accent."

"Oh, I know you," Mac says, brightening. "You're Carter Natsworthy's kid, aren't you?"

"I am."

"I knew it. All the purebloods are related to each other one way or another. We're probably related."

"Oh," I nod, noncommittally, looking down at my mashed potatoes.

"Friends got sorted into another house?" she asks me, after a few more beats of silence. I just wish that she'd leave me alone, but I nod.

"Yeah, Gryffindor."

"Bummer. You won't see much of them. They try to schedule classes without out houses together."

"Why?"

Someone else answers before Mac can, and she looks a little annoyed, eyes narrowing. "We get into a lot of fights." He smiles, as if this is a good thing.

"Lachlan," she says. "This is Hester."

"Nice to meet you," he says, not really smiling, but still managing to look friendly, and holds out a hand to shake. "John Lachlan."

His lips are thin but exquisitely shaped, eyes an icy green and nose a perfectly straight cast down from his eyes. His hair fringes over his forehead and his eyes, some pleasing mix of browns and a hint of gold.

"Katica Natsworthy," I say, finding that his hands are icy cold, or my hands have been sweating. I quickly wipe my palms against my robes, hoping that he hadn't noticed.

"I thought Mac said your name was Hester...?" he asks, brows furrowing.

"That's my middle name," I say sheepishly.

"Oh, so what do I call you?"

"Whatever you want. As long as it doesn't make me punch you."

He laughs, a clear, polite, impersonal sort of laugh. "Hester it is, then. You're not Carter Natsworthy's kid, are you?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Nice. Not that I'm a pureblood."

"We don't really think about our blood status a lot," I say. "So it doesn't matter."

"Your mother is an American, isn't she?" Mac jumps back into the conversation. "Listen to her accent, Lachlan, isn't it wonderful?"

"It's just an accent," he waves her away. "I knew her mother was American, anyway."

"How did you know?" I ask in surprise, wondering how much more of my family history people knew. Probably more than I do, we've never really talked about Carter's side of the family.

"Oh, it was a big deal when he married her," Mac says, before Lachlan can say anything. "Technically she wasn't a pureblood, but she wasn't _not_ a pureblood either, so they made the exception for her. There was a rumor that she was pregnant before they got married. Is that true, do you know?"

" _Mac_ ," Lachlan says, scolding her. "Don't ask people things like that."

"No," I say, in answer to her question.

"No, it's not true, or, no, you don't know?"

"If she was pregnant before she was married, it would've been with me, but I'm too young," I say. "Born early 1976."

Lachlan does the math out in his head. "And they were married in, what, 74?"

"Yeah. Two years after getting out of school."

"Cool," he shrugs, "You think you can get married _while_ you're in school? I mean, once you're seventeen, you're an adult, and technically, you're allowed. I think I'd love to be married at Hogwarts. I mean, where else would you do it?"

"Probably here," Mac admits. "But it'd be weird to get married."

"I'm not getting married, ever," I say, and Mac nods in agreement. Lachlan just shrugs, and reaches over for food as dessert appears on the table, cramming something into his mouth.

I follow them out of the Great Hall, after dinner, getting caught up in the huge crowd that is too noisy and they walk too fast for me. I keep tripping and eventually stop walking altogether, looking around desperately for Mac and Lachlan. Percy and Oliver join me from behind, and we start to talk, all three of us admitting that we're a bit lost.

"So," Oliver says. "I guess you're in Slytherin."

"Yeah."

"Bummer, it'll be harder to hang out."

"I know."

"I kept telling the Hat to put me in Slytherin, but it just laughed at me and put me in Gryffindor," Oliver admits.

I smile. "Thanks for trying, I guess. The Hat was pretty decided. I mean, it didn't even touch your head, Percy, and it yelled Gryffindor."

"I told you we all get into Gryffindor," Percy sighs. "Bill, Charlie, Mum and Dad, and now me."

"What are you three doing?" Something large and black appears behind me, and Percy and Oliver jump in surprise, stepping backwards quickly. I turn, to see the professor who's glass I had shattered, and also take rapid steps back.

"Get to your dormitories," he spits out, and Percy and Oliver nod, taking off running up the stairs. I sort of just look up at the professor, eyes wide. He glares down at me.

"Well?" he asks me icily.

"I-I don't know where it is, sir," I say. "The dormitories. The crowd pushed me to the back."

He makes a sort of soft, menacing growl and I shrink away. "Name? House?"

"Katica Natsworthy, sir. Slytherin."

His eyes narrow, but he doesn't say anything, just sweeps away. I follow him, but a few moments later, I hear someone calling for me.

"Hester? Heeeeester?"

Mac and Lachlan appear and seem to be startled by the presence of the dark professor. They pull up short, facing us in the hallway with slightly taken aback expressions.

"Hullo, professor," Mac says cautiously. "We were just looking for Hester. She got behind in the crowd." I walk towards them, away from the professor.

"Next time, I do not want to see you out after curfew, do you understand?" he asks, voice a cold, low snarl.

"Yes, sir," the three of us say in unison, and hurry away down the hall.

"When is curfew?" I ask, curiously.

"Ten," Lachlan tells me. "Usually dinner isn't so late, but all you firsties needed to be sorted today, and we always have extra stuff at the start of the year."

"Bad luck to have Snape catch you, of all people."

" _That_ was Severus Snape?" I ask in surprise.

"Why?" Mac asks, picking up on the tone of my voice.

"Well, I mean, my mum and dad were friends with him in school. I never expected him to look so... I don't know..."

"Bat-like?" Lachlan supplies. "Yeah. But I can't imagine that Snape was friends with _anyone_ in school."

"Give people a chance," I say indignantly, directly quoting what both my mother and father had told me over and over again.

"He was a Death Eater, which sometimes, people say seems like a good thing to us Slytherins, but I can assure you that Lachlan and I never intend to be Death Eaters, ever."

"Not that it matters, Voldemort is dead."

"There are still Death Eaters," Mac protests. "I mean, look at-"

"Shhh," Lachlan hushes her, as we approach the dungeons. We're down in the dungeons, and Lachlan speaks the password directly to a carving of two snakes in the stone.

" _Sibilo,"_ he says, and the snakes untwist themselves, widening a gap in the stone until it opens into an archway. We step inside, and Mac shows me up into the girls dormitories, after we say goodnight to Lachlan. I find my name on a plaque on one of the doors, say goodnight to Mac, and then step inside.

 **Comment? Thanks! :)**


	3. Sorely terrible at intros I'm sorry okay

**Mercy**

Third year brings about the introduction of the other Black, and James' atrocious attempts to sweep Lily off her feet increase in frequency. I have become closer friends with Lily _and_ Severus, but nowadays I much prefer to hang out with Carter and Remus Lupin.

Contrary to Sirius' claims, I dislike James as much as Lily, but continue to be Sirius' "partner in crime", although I have yet to see evidence that I'm having fun doing it. I do enjoy being friends with Lily, she's the nicest person on the planet.

One thing that I didn't expect is that in becoming closer friends with Remus (and Peter), is that I hang out with 'the Marauders' (or as McGonagall calls them, "idiots 1 through 4") more, and I also have become closer friends with the devil himself, Sirius Black.

" _Oh, mercy mercy meee_..." someone sings out from behind me, voice considerably octaves higher and stronger than Marvin Gaye had intended the song to be, soaring over the chatter of the students leaving the Dining Hall. " _Oh, things ain't what they used to be._ "

"Sirius!" I grin, as he hurtles and elbows his way through the crowds.

"Hey," he says, bounding up to me and joining me as I walk towards the Divination tower. "Guess what I got in the post today?"

"I can't guess," I say dryly, "considering that I literally saw it smash your breakfast plate in half, and it wasn't wrapped in any particularly vague packaging."

"It's an electric guitar!" he crows, ignoring me. "James is going to destroy it, I need to keep it out of the dorm somehow. He doesn't know how to use one."

"I'm pretty sure it's pretty self explanatory," I say. "We don't even have electricity here."

"You don't know James," he shakes his head.

"You're right, I don't."

"You're walking so slow," he complains. "We'll be late."

"I don't remember you ever being particularly concerned with being late to class," I say.

"I know, but you're never late," he says. "Plus, I want to get some time to sleep. I stayed up all night last night."

"I know," I roll my eyes. "I heard you." I pitch my voice up higher and pretend to be Sirius. "'Oh, James, my guitar is coming, isn't it _so_ exciting?' I could hear you the whole night."

"Oh, shut up," he says crossly. "I don't sound like that."

"You're going to be late to class if you don't hurry up!" someone calls, as the pass, and I vaguely see Lily, as she hurtles past us, bag clutched to her chest. A moment later, Severus follows, running possibly faster than Lily is.

Sirius looks the other way as he sticks out a foot and Severus goes flying.

"Sirius!" I yell at him, picking up Severus' books. The two of us straighten, Severus stuffing things into his bag with enough death in his glare to scare even Sirius, who laughs nervously. I hold the books out to him, and he takes them from me, furiously searching my face for something he doesn't like, but I just look at him, eyebrow raised.

He stares at me longer, waiting for the pity he hates to see, so that he can glare at me, but I just smile at him briefly, and turn away.

"Thanks," he says, finally, voice rough and reluctant.

"Alright, alright," Sirius says. "Before you kiss, I'm just going to point out that-"

"Sirius Black!" I whirl around, and he takes a step back in surprise. "Leave people alone, for once!"

"I wasn't trying to offend _you_ , I was talking about Snivellus-"

"Don't call me that!" Severus snaps, probably emboldened by the fact that Sirius is without James, and that I'm as mad at Sirius as Severus is.

Sirius looks from me to Severus, then shrugs. "Fine, fine," he says, sulking. "Be that way."

Severus runs away, and I'm left alone in the hallway with Sirius, walking slowly to Divination.

"Do you really have to be such a jerk?" I break out. "Would it hurt you once in your life to not act like a proud bastard?"

Sirius opens his mouth, then shuts it. He shoves his hands into his pockets. "You always tell me off," he mutters. "I don't want to be told off. That's what my family is for."

"You need it," I point out, adamantly.

" _I've been really tryin', baby,_ " he sings softly.

I cross my arms. "Nuh-uh, don't start singing on me, Sirius Black."

" _Tryin' to hold back these feeling for so long..._ "

"Sirius!"

" _And if you feel, like I feel baby, then come on, oh come on._ " He breaks into the chorus, grabs my hands and spins me around. " _Let's get it on,"_ he sings, then throws his head back, and sings in a high, gritty falsetto, " _Oh, baby!_ "

"Very romantic," I say, rolling my eyes, lifting my arm so he can duck his head and twirl himself.

"Mr. Black! Ms. Natsworthy!" the voice of McGonagall snaps at us from down the hallway.

" _If I'm with friends and we should meet, just pass me by, don't even speak. Know the word's "discreet" when part-time lovers,_ " Sirius sings out, as loud as he dares, as McGonagall approaches, and I smother a laugh with my hands as Sirius lets go of me.

She presses her lips tight together, and her face goes scarlet, and at first, I think she's mad, but then I realize she's trying not to laugh at Sirius' smooth, choir-boy shrill. "You can save your dancing and singing for the weekends," she says, as calmly as she can. "Get to class, you two."

We chorus out a "Yes, Professor", and head towards the divination tower, barely hearing her mutter under her breath.

"Stevie Wonder. Really, I wonder about the boy." Sirius looks at me, and flashes me a grin, grey eyes narrowed into delighted crescents, fringed with thick eyelashes.

"This doesn't let you off the hook, you know," I say, trying not to smile back. "Stop looking so smug."

"Why don't you ever sing?" he asks me.

"Because you'll laugh at me," I say. "And if not you, Potter will."

"We won't laugh at you," he says, then adds, "After we get over the initial shock. Who are your favorite singers?"

I shrug. "I don't have favorite singers, I have favorite songs."

"You mean _I'm_ your favorite singer," he teases, as we clamber up the ladder into the Divination room and slip into the back of the class. I sit between Sirius and Lily. James is drawing something on his textbook, and he and Sirius promptly begin a game of hangman. I hazily listen to the professor, preferring more to daydream out the window.

I pull out my wand and it sparks a bit before I mutter out a spell and it stops. It's hawthorn and dragon heartstring, and I've been told it's a rebellious, mean spirited wand, but we get along well, as long as I let it do its thing, and it lets me do mine.

A sort of transparent mist snakes out from the tip, and begins to wind its way around the table we sit at, until the legs of the table are completely wrapped up in it. From the end, Remus gives me a look, and I shrug, letting the mist sort of rise.

I flick my wrist towards Sirius, who hasn't noticed anything yet, and the fog converges on him faster than he can react. He goes sprawling backwards off his chair, yell of surprise muffled so much that the sound of him hitting the carpeted floor is louder than his voice.

"Mercy!" he howls, struggling free of the mist, as people turn to look at us. Lily covers her mouth and starts laughing, and so does James. Something coats his hair, and once he manages to flick all of it off, it leaves his hair undeniably _green_.

"Mercy Gaffery!" Sirius says, hurling some of the green stuff at me, but I dodge it with the expertness one can only learn from being a Chaser. "My hair is _green_! How could you?!"

"I think it looks good," I laugh, and Sirius rights his chair with difficulty, moving far away, so that he's sitting beside Remus. His hair is deepening into a dark, streaky green. It settles there, and would stay like that for a few days. The professor has not really stopped teaching, just continues to mutter on, as the scene dies down a bit.

Something stings the inside of my forearm, and I jerk back. "Hey!" I snap at Sirius, who is aiming his wand perfectly at my hand. The skin where his spell had hit turns almost black green, then sinks beneath the skin and settles beside my veins. After a moment, a bit of it rises to the surface and begins to form words, which can only come from Sirius.

 _Let the war begin_ , it says, but suddenly it changes.

 _Sirius, you two can't go around pranking people._

 _Watch me, Remus. You watch out, Mercy Gaffery._

"Sirius, what is this?" I ask, and I can see my own words write themselves over my skin.

"I don't know," he says. "I saw it in a book, and I don't think I did it right."

"Merlin, I didn't know you could read," James says, and Sirius flicks a paper ball at him and a game of paper Quidditch ensues.

After class, as I'm walking towards the library for my free period, after telling Sirius that I really don't want to get involved in whatever he and James are planning to do now, and Regulus Black approaches me, a second year with the bearings of an old man. I've never really talked to him - when he arrived last year, Sirius never really talked to him, and I don't think Regulus likes him much.

It's like Sirius hates his entire family, but reserves a sort of reluctant hope for Regulus, that he'll eventually turn out alright, even though Regulus has annoyed him since he was a first year.

"Gaffery, right?" he asks me, and I nod. "Hi. Regulus Black."

"Hello," I say, not really sure what he wants form me, only that he seems bent on following me to the library whether I want him to or not.

"I need help with something. Was wondering whether you could help me."

"With what?"

"I need to get Sirius to come home."

"What?" I ask, and he just repeats what he had said before.

"I need my brother to come home."

"Hogwarts is his home."

"He left home mad this September and I know he's not coming back."

"I should hope not," I say indignantly. "And I'll be the first one to offer him a place to stay."

"I don't want him to be away," he insists.

"You don't even like him."

"You mean he doesn't like me. Listen, Gaffery, Sirius is a lot of things, and bad isn't one of those things, and once he's gone my family will cut him out of the tree. I'll be forced to carry on their dark legacies."

"You want him to stay so he can be a death eater and you don't have to be one?"

Regulus looks alarmed, and shakes his head. "No, no, it's not like that."

"I've heard about Voldemort," I say accusingly. "He's some insane old man who apparently wants to live forever and take over the world so he can kill everyone except the purebloods, right? You European purebloods eat that kind of thing up."

"I don't want to join him."

"Why don't you run away like Sirius, then?"

He shakes his head again, violently. "I can't do that, they'll kill me."

We step into the library. "Listen, Regulus, I don't know how to help you, okay? I'm sorry, but I can't tie Sirius back to a place he hates."

"I don't know what to do either!" he protests. "People will just always see me as the bad guy because Sirius is good, but I don't _want_ to be bad."

"What can you do?" I ask. "If you're not willing to run away?"

"How can I stay sane in places like that?"

"How does Sirius do it?"

"He can afford to be against the tide."

"And you can't?"

"No."

"I don't know how to help you!"

"Listen, I'm actually late to class right now. Do you mind meeting me here again?"

"But-"

"Sunday? Ten maybe?"

"But I have-"

"Thanks, bye!"

"But-" but he's already gone. I'm slightly perplexed that everyone seems to want to talk to me on Sundays at the same time, in the same place. I mean, I know Sirius just has his 'meetings' when they are because he knows I meet up with Carter at that time and he wants to annoy me, but why Regulus has to pick exactly the same time and place, I don't know.

"Hey," someone says, sitting across from me.

"Hey, Remus."

"Has that stuff rubbed off yet?"

"Oh, this?" I hold up my arm. "Nah."

"I dunno where Sirius found the spell," he says, with some sort of irritation at him. "I don't know how I'd get rid of it."

"Me neither." I look up at him. "Are you alright?"

"What?" he's a bit surprised.

"You look sort of sick."

"You don't look too great yourself."

"I'm fine, you're not," I insist. "You look like you've been run over by a train. And it's always after you go away for the month. Where do you even go?"

"My mother is very ill," he says, green eyes looking away from me with abstraction, pretending that he doesn't feel uneasy with my questioning.

"You're lying."

He blinks at me in surprise.

"I know how it feels when someone you love is being taken from you. I know how it sits in a heart. So don't insult me."

"She'll get better," he says mechanically.

"Nice acting, Remus."

"I'm not acting, Mercy, don't _you_ insult me."

"Whatever," I say, frowning and turning back to my homework, which I haven't even looked at yet. Remus sort of sighs, disgruntled, and starts on his homework as well. I don't think I've ever seen him so defensive in my life.

"His mother is sick, give him a break," Carter tells me, later that day. "Everyone has a different way of reacting to stuff like this, Mercy, just because he's acting different than you did doesn't mean he's _lying_. You can't just accuse people of things like that."

"But I know Remus well enough to know that that is not how he would act if someone he loved was fatally ill."

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I don't know if that's a matter that you should really press."

"I want to know, though."

"I know," he says. "Because you always want to know everything. Don't think I don't know you, Mercy Gaffery, I know you're more curious than the entire school combined. Have you ever considered being a reporter or something like that?"

"A few times," I admit. "But I'd much more like to be an Auror or something. Out in the field, you know?"

"As long as you don't get in trouble."

"Well, what about you? You're more of the shady type."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're a good guy, but I can't see you telling your family you don't want to go into... the Dark Arts or something."

"I'm offended," he says, really actually faintly offended.

"I'm just telling you the truth."

"I don't like the truth, then. I mean, sure my family is typical pureblood, but they'd understand if I don't want to do- do whatever they want me to do."

"I don't know," I say dubiously. "All I've ever heard are horror stories from the noble and most ancient house of Black."

"We're not all the same," he mutters, "although we're painfully similar."

"I know," I say. "I just don't know how to help you. I don't know how to help any of you."

 **Katica**

That night, I wake up around three, because I hear the window start to crack, ominously loud, and I get out of bed and walk down into the common room as quietly as I can. The common room is completely stone and furnished with the cold, extravagant sort of furniture rich people have on display but don't really use.

I step out of the common room and walk up the stairs and out of the dungeons, all the way through the castle until I arrive in the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling illuminated with the night sky. I sit down at the Gryffindor table, and after a moment stretch out on my back so that I can stare at the ceiling better.

My wandless magic has an irritating tendency to shatter glass things, like mirrors and glasses and windows, but at least the only things in this room are the house banners and the five tables. There aren't even windows.

The wand I own is 14 inches, flexible willow and thunderbird tail feather, which was made, I think, by Wolfe, a Native American wandmaker. It was my grandmother's wand, which means I actually have her permit for the wand (you need a permit to own a wand in America). I know for a fact that it's the most cantankerous wand known to mankind, possibly because it's old, or possibly because the thunderbird tail feather is just the worst core I could've possibly gotten.

I always lose it, which is, admittedly, a problem, but I've never used it before. My wandless magic provides plenty of problems for me by itself, and I'm not about to jump into an entirely new sea of problems until I absolutely have to. Which is tomorrow, when classes start.

"Ms. Natsworthy," comes a voice, but I don't move. "I thought I told you I did not want to see you out of the dormitories after curfew."

Oh, will he just leave me alone?

"Natsworthy, you'd best get up before I make you."

"Yes, sir," I say, sitting up as slowly as I can. Snape glowers at me.

"What are you doing up at this time of night?" he snaps at me, and I shrug, as insouciant as I can. His eyes narrow. "Don't think that just because I knew your parents means that I will cut any slack for you. On the contrary, _because_ I knew your father, I know what to expect from you."

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"I mean that you have detention tomorrow at eight."

"Yes, sir," I say evenly, and his eyes narrow further.

"Just like your father, Natsworthy," he sneers. "But of course, you don't know what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't, sir."

"I don't know who you think you are, but I can assure you that whoever it is is not well acquainted with reality."

"What?"

"Your wand," he says, changing the subject, holding it out to me. "You dropped it. I would advise that you keep it in some pocket or another, because it seems to raise all hell when left alone."

So _that's_ how he knew I was up. I take the wand, mentally cursing it and threatening to split it in half. It jets out green sparks cantankerously, as if threatening to kill me as well. I drop it into my pocket with disgust and it reacts by jerking obnoxiously as it goes down.

" _Behave_ , for once in your damn life," I tell it out loud, then cover my mouth with a hand, embarrassed that I became so engrossed with my wand that I'd forgotten that Snape was there.

For a moment I _swear_ I see him smile, but then it's gone and he directs me back to the dungeons with a scowl. I hate the fact that the Slytherin common room is underground, but I'm not about to complain, especially in front of Snape.

"What?" he eventually snaps at me, when we're almost at the entrance.

"What? Sir?"

"Stop _staring_ at me!"

"I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were!"

"No."

"I'm a professor, and I say that you were!"

"You can't win an argument like that!"

"I can, and I will. Get to your room, before I give you more detention."

"That's cheating," I mutter, saying the password and stepping into the Slytherin Common rooms.

In a few more hours, I wake up for the second time and drag myself to the Great Hall. I notice that my robes have all become green, Slytherin's colors, and I wonder if I can change them back to what they were before.

"Hesteeeer!" someone sings out from behind me, and I turn around to see Mac and Lachlan charging straight through the crowd of people. Mac nearly barrels me over. "You were talking to Snape, weren't you?"

"What?"

"Last night," Mac says, grinning widely. "You saved our skin!"

"What?" I ask again.

"Well, just Mac's skin, she was being stupid," Lachlan adds, "we were sneaking out to get food and there was just this wand, going on the fritz in the middle of the hall, which distracted Snape from the pasties Mac dropped-"

"-which I wouldn't've had dropped if you hadn't elbowed me," Mac interrupts.

"-but anyway, we didn't get in trouble."

"I did. I got a detention," I say.

Mac whistles appreciatively. "You got detention before classes even started? Nice."

"Maaac," Lachlan scolds, rolling his green eyes with practiced, elegant, exasperation.

"I mean, not _nice_ ," she reluctantly corrects herself. "But really, if you're going to hang out with us, you're going to get used to getting in trouble. You may even admire it."

"We're not in the same year," Lachlan says. "She may have good friends yet. Don't corrupt her before she even gets into the thick of things."

"Friends? She's not making any good friends in Slytherin, I can tell you. This bunch is the stupidest of the stupid."

"It doesn't have to be with _Slytherins_ ," Lachlan rolls his eyes. "There are other houses."

"The best friends are usually in the same house as you are," Mac argues. "Remember when you and-"

"Oka~ay," Lachlan interrupts, as we sit down at the table and begin to eat. A few minutes later, owls begin to swoop into the Great Hall, and I don't pay attention to them, not expecting to get any mail.

A heavy package drops down onto the table beside me, something nearby shatters, and I swear loudly (so that no one hears the shattering), making Mac laugh.

"You've got a big voice for a little girl," she says. "Maybe your name does fit you. Katica Natsworthy, swearing more than Lachlan does."

"I don't swear a lot!" Lachlan protests. "Come on, Mac, I'm trying to _not_ be a delinquent."

"What's inside?" she asks, ignoring him, poking at the package. "It feels like a book. Is it a book? Don't tell me you're a nerd like Lachlan. It's a book, isn't it?"

I rip open the package, revealing that it is, indeed a book. A journal, actually, and a letter.

"Can I see?" Mac asks, reaching out, but Lachlan smacks her hands away. I hurry to put the book away, and open the letter. It's from Mom, and I manage to scan it over without the prying eyes of Mac over my shoulder.

The basic gist is that a) Snape is a git a lot of the time (or maybe all of the time), b) I need to be nice to him, and c) this is her first year journal, and I'm allowed to read it. I'm not sure if I _want_ to read my mother's journal, but I tuck the letter away and shrug.

"It's just... stuff," I say lamely to Mac's questions, as our schedules are spelled out to us.

"Transfiguration and Potions with the Gryffindors," I read out, "History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Ravenclaws, and Herbology and Charms with the Hufflepuffs."

"Not bad," Mac comments. "Last year we had four classes on Fridays with the Gryffindors and we nearly burned the castle down."

"But I _want_ to have classes with them," I complain.

"It's alright," Lachlan says. "You have plenty of free time. Classes only end at three. Speaking of which, we have free time at twelve together, you want to hang out at the library then?"

"Sure," I say, glad to have someone to hang out with at all. "But what about P-"

"Listen," Lachlan interrupts me. "I'd keep your friendships with the Gryffindors down low, unless you want the others to destroy your life."

He looks over at the rest of the Slytherin table. He stops my protests, saying, "I'm not saying you can't be friends with them, but just as a heads up, you should know what you're getting into."

"Don't scare her," Mac says. "She can do anything she wants. She can take it."

" _You_ don't tell her she can do anything!" Lachlan insists, "because she can't!"

She shrugs. "I'm not about to be her mother."

"Well, then _I'll_ do it!"

"Merlin, Lachlan, I never thought you'd be the naggy one."

"I'm not!"

Classes start at nine, but it's only eight, so I can meet up with Percy and Oliver. We've sort of met up in the middle of the hallway, and Look over each other's schedules. They have double Potions with the Hufflepuffs first thing, while I have double History with the Raven claws.

"We do have transfiguration together," Oliver says. "Actually, do you want to meet up after lunch? I'm sort of sick of sitting at the Gryffindor table."

"You are?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah, I've only got Percy here to talk to," he teases, and Percy scowls.

"If you'd just stop talking about Quidditch all the time, we'd get along better," he insists. "I don't even plan to play, anyway!"

"Oh, come on you two. You get along fine," I say, a little reluctant that I'm not really a part of their conversation.

"What about you?" Oliver asks me. "You've made friends too, haven't you? With those second years?"

"More like they sort of- " I make a sort of globbing motion with my hands. "Converged on me when I wasn't expecting. They're alright, though."

"But that's how it happens, isn't it? Making friends?"

"I don't know," I confess, "I haven't really made any other friends before."

"Aw," Oliver says, slinging an arm around my shoulders and mussing my hair up in mock patronization. "You're so cute."

"Stop!" I complain, laughing anyway, scrabbling to get away from him.

"It's not like your hair can get any messier, anyway," he says, and I manage to tear myself away. He chases after me, cackling, and Percy follows behind, rolling his eyes.

"I don't think you're allowed to run in the- GAAH! Stop it!"

Oliver and I have turned on Percy as if by unspoken unanimous vote, and he tries to protect his hair as he dashes away. I barrel into him at the end of the hall, where he's reached a dead end, and find myself whisked up into a huge hug as Oliver tackles us and the three of us collapse onto the ground in a heap of giggling eleven year olds.

"What's this?" Oliver asks, picking up my mom's journal, which had fallen out of my bag. It's open to a certain page, with a picture clipped onto it. "Is this _Snape_?"

Percy and I crowd over to see it, our three heads touching, more awed by the sight of a young Snape than anything else.

"I think it is," Percy says, referring to the long and dark haired, definitely younger version of Snape, who is talking to a girl with long red hair. Both of them are laughing, and I honestly don't think I've have or will ever see a happier Snape in my life.

"Well, yeah, my mom always said that they were friends," I shrug. "She said she's giving me the journal she wrote in her second year, and next year I'll get her third year one, all the way up until sixth year."

"That doesn't add up, shouldn't there be seven journals, then?" Oliver asks, momentarily counting on his fingers, but then realizing that there wasn't really anything to count. "For seven years?"

"She transferred in from America in her second year," I explain. "That's when her parents died."

"Really? That's a bit odd," Percy says thoughtfully, then hastens to add, "I mean, that she let you read her journals, not that her parents died. Charlie has a journal, but I think it's really a diary, and he'd kill me if I so much as touched it. Although, the twins have gotten their hands on it before."

"But it's _Snape_ ," Oliver says, still inspecting the picture. "And look, he's actually laughing."

"I don't know," I say. "I haven't read it yet."

"Can I read it too?" Oliver asks, "you know, if your mum doesn't mind?"

"I suppose," I shrug. "Anyway. What time is it?"

"Eight forty-five," Percy says efficiently, consulting the scratched up watch strapped around his wrist. "Better get going. Who know, with Oliver we might actually get lost."

"You mean, _you_ will get us lost because you think you know where we're going," Oliver counters. "Don't lie to yourself, you're not any more knowledgeable than I am about this sort of thing."

"See you guys," I call, already halfway down the hall. "Try not to kill each other."

 **Ooc Snape, I know. Review, pretty please?**


	4. I'm a bad writer the plot is zilch

**Mercy**

"Have you been talking to Regulus?" Sirius asks me, one winter day, lying flat out on the grass, bundled up in his winter gear.

"Me?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes, you, Mercy, he says he actually wants to stay at school for Christmas, and I asked him why, and he said that I shouldn't question his decisions."

"And?"

"It sounded like something you'd say."

"I did tell him something like that," I admit. "When he asked me why I'm nice to Slytherins."

"I knew it," Sirius says, triumphant, sitting up and looking at James, who rolls his eyes. We're sitting in the snow with Remus and Peter and Frank Longbottom, having just engaged in an intense snowball fight.

"Yes, well, _anyone_ could've said it," James protests.

"Not with that tone of self righteousness. Impressionable little Reg could only have picked that up from feisty Mercy here."

I ball up a palm of snow and throw it at Sirius, who splutters as it hits his face and scrambles to gather up his own snowball.

Third year has been filled with pranks, on the Slytherins, on the Gryffindors, on me, on Sirius, on James, even on Severus, who does not appreciate them. I swear James has allied himself with Peeves the poltergeist, and that he's some sort of ninja, sneaking around the school without being noticed.

Regulus has begun to join Carter and I, on Sundays at ten, which is mostly when, instead of doing homework, we just talk. Or make jokes and terrible puns. Or we complain. Sirius has kept the entirety of Gryffindor tower awake with his guitar, even though I've bought him headphones for them. He likes making a lot of noise, and I'm surprised that McGonagall hasn't come up to yell at him yet.

I've joined the Quidditch team, along with James, who is Chaser like me. The other Chaser for Gryffindor is Frank, who James has become quite good friends with.

Carter is, unfortunately, also the Chaser for Slytherin, and whenever Gryffindor plays Slytherin, it's virtually impossible to get the Quaffle away from him. Sometimes James steals the Beater's bat right out of out Beaters' hands so that he can take a swing at Carter, or send a Bludger at him, which I'm pretty sure is illegal, but no one has complained bout so far.

It's turned into a sort of warm winter, and playing a match against Slytherin ends in a triumphant Gryffindor win, in which James literally throws Thomas Flanagan's bat straight at Carter's head and Carter nearly falls off his broom. Carter's too dazed to make the penalty shot, and it starts raining a sludgy sort of rain filled with watery snow, so he misses the shot, and our Seeker catches the Snitch while we are in a thirty point lead.

I've landed on the pitch and Carter has as well, and after the normal shaking hands, where the Slytherin Captain nearly rips my hand off of my wrist, Carter starts to laugh, completely soaked and shivering, then grips me in a tight hug, screaming something I can't hear at the top of his lungs.

"We lost," he explains later on, "but I don't think I've ever felt so alive in my life. You're just a very huggable entity, you know?"

Christmas swings around, and James and Peter had gone home for Christmas with their families because their parents have threatened to owl Dumbledore if they don't go, and all of my roommates have gone too. Sirius and Remus and I sit in the deserted common room when Sirius tells me, voice hushed, leaning forward, to Remus' protests:

"Remus is a _werewolf_."

"Sirius!" Remus cries, horrified, looking at me, then at Sirius.

"I _knew_ it!" I say. "I knew it, Remus, and you kept telling me, ' _no, my mum's very ill_ ', I _knew_ it, I told you I knew you were lying!"

"Well, I couldn't just tell you, could I?" Remus protests, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"You let Sirius and James and Peter know!" I protest.

"They figured it out on their own!"

"So did I! But _no_ , I was wrong, and-" I imitate Remus' voice, " _Mercy would you please stop being so ridiculous_?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I wouldn't admit to it, then!"

"I'm not _mad_ ," I say, surprising him by leaning forward and hugging him tightly. "We love you, Remus, and 'we' includes me."

Sirius starts to sing "Sappy" by Nirvana, and Remus laughs and wraps his arms around me, pausing to give Sirius the stink eye.

We eat dinner at the one table, with all of the teachers, Lily, Carter, Severus, and Regulus. Regulus sits between Carter and I, not wanting to sit near Sirius but also not wanting to sit near the teachers. Lily has no issues, sitting beside McGonagall and Severus. McGonagall keeps rolling her eyes, as Sirius launches mashed potatoes at Remus and then at me.

"I wasn't aware that you could eat so many pasties in one go," Regulus says, later on in the meal, looking at me in amusement. I look at him straight on and push another pasty right into my mouth. He laughs and then covers his mouth when he laughs too hard and nearly chokes.

I chew hard and then swallow, dodging Sirius' peas as they fly through the air. Lily expertly spells away all the mess, used to cleaning up after the messes the Marauders make, and Severus just rolls his eyes.

"Lucky you do Quidditch," Regulus tells me, "or you'd be as fat as Slughorn."

"Right," I nod, "because it's possible for me to be as fat as him."

"It is!"

"Ask the blind man, he saw it all," I say, and Regulus grimaces and looks up at the ceiling. "Don't pretend, Reg, you love me."

"I'm not pretending, I'm reminding myself that reality exists."

"Don't get too cocky, second year," I say, tapping his head with two fingers. "We all know who'd win in a fight."

"You mean me?"

"Oh, get out," I say, pushing him lightly, and he grins.

"Don't pretend, you know you love me," he repeats after me.

"Enough flirting, you two," Sirius calls down the table. "I think I've lost my appetite."

"You're just jealous," I shoot back. "Your game's not as good as your little brother's."

"Or maybe I'm not trying with you," he retorts.

" _Ouch_ ," Regulus winces on my behalf. "Quick, rush her to the burn unit!"

"Oh, shut up you two," I say. "I'm glad you two don't hang out together more or I may kill myself."

"Or they might accidentally kill you first," Remus says, cleaning mashed potato off of his robes. He leans into my shoulder to get away from Sirius who has conjured up a thick black marker out of nowhere. "Don't let him draw on me, Mercy- I swear, Sirius Black don't you touch me!"

McGonagall manages to stop Sirius, and we walk out of the Great Hall but don't walk to our common rooms because I want to talk to Carter and Lily is still talking to Severus.

"Exciting, huh?" Carter asks me. "Christmas Eve at Hogwarts. To be honest. I've loved Christmas at Hogwarts my entire life."

"I went home first year, but last year was pretty cool."

"Get any good presents?"

"Only the book you got me, and the journal from my aunt."

"I got a broomstick," he says. "It's the one I used to sweep you sorry sods off the pitch last year."

"We're going to win this year!" I protest. "Save your smug comments until June, when we've won the house cup."

"Don't get to full of yourself, Gryffindor, there's still most of the year left to go." He grins to show he's joking, and the two of us laugh.

"I got you something, from Hogsmeade," I say.

"You have?"

"Well, yeah, I got something for everyone. It's up in my room. Do you want me to get it now or wait for tomorrow?"

"I think I can wait," he grins. "Coincidentally, I got something for you as well, and it's down in my room."

" _Angel of mercy, how did you find me? How did you pick me up again?_ " Sirius appears at my shoulder, singing OneRepublic in his now-lower voice. He's gone from a soprano to tenor in a few months, which is sort of annoying because it's prompted him to sing even more, experimenting with his voice and that blasted electric guitar. "You ready to head back up?"

"I guess," I say, looking from Carter to Regulus, then at Severus who's standing a little ways off from the rest of us. "'Night, you guys."

Carter waves goodbye, Severus doesn't say anything, and Regulus gives us a huge grin before Sirius, Remus, Lily and I all head up to the Gryffindor tower. Sirius retrieves his electric guitar and we sit on the floor in the common room with the fire roaring.

"I've gotten quite good, you know, Mercy don't look at me like that. You- " he points at me, "-are going to sing."

"I don't want to."

"Oh, come on, James isn't here. None of us are going to judge you. You sing fine. We can hear you in the shower."

"I don't sing in the shower," I protest.

"Yes, you do. Lily told me. Didn't you?"

"Lily!" I say, horrified when Lily just ducks her head and grins. "Base treachery!"

"It is _not_ ," she insists.

" _Have yourself a merry little Christmas,_ " Sirius sings, waiting for me. "Come on, Mercy. We'll all sing with together."

" _Let your heart be light_ ," they all sing, and with them all chorusing together, I have no problem joining in. At some point Lily and Remus drop out and I find myself singing with Sirius alone, ears turning bright red.

We end with Sirius breaking out into laughter at his own voice crack, leaning over his guitar to rest his forehead against mine.

"Repeat after me!" he yells. "I'M GOOD AT SINGING!"

"Sirius-"

"I'M GOOD AT SINGING!" he interrupts, so I repeat after him.

"I'M GOOD AT SINGING!"

"There we go!" he says, amping up the volume on his guitar. "Another song!"

We retire sometime much later, voices hoarse with laughter and singing and a few rounds of exploding snap, and I swear up and down Sirius was cheating. and I don't even remember feeling lonely in the empty dorm room, in fact I feel more happy than I have in a while.

 **Katica**

I have History of Magic with the Ravenclaws, and I meet the despicable Penelope Clearwater. I know I shouldn't be so harsh on people, but there's something about her that just gets at me, maybe it's her flouncing or her irritating know it all voice. I had not expected to hate a Ravenclaw. I actually had not expected to hate anyone at all, but as soon as I see Clearwater, I know that she's the one I'll probably "accidentally" kill. I go through the entire class not even perturbed with the fact that our teacher is a ghost, but more disturbed by the girl.

She's one of those people you hate for absolutely no reason and spend time staring at so you can find the reason. She's one of those people that you hate but no one else knows why, and when they do something wrong, you emerge triumphant, saying _I knew it. I told you. I told you there was something wrong with her._

All grudges aside, history of magic is extremely boring and I pretty much fall asleep, rousing myself to take notes and hoping that I can ask Percy or Oliver for the notes, because I've missed probably half of the lesson.

I eat lunch with the Slytherins, hastily shoveling food into my mouth before hurrying out into the hall, where I meet Oliver and Percy. Oliver begins to talk about Quidditch, and here he is where he, too, meets Clearwater, as she walks past us.

And hates her, mainly because when we passed her, she had no qualms about eavesdropping and cutting into our conversation to tell us that Quidditch is stupid. She flounces past us and involuntarily Oliver and I both cringe. Percy sort of idly looks at her, not realizing that she's there object of our dislike and thinking that she's just another student.

We've all sort of joined up in the library, whether or not we asked each other to come. Mac, Lachlan, Percy, Oliver and I all sit around a table in the library, and I'm pleasantly surprised to see that they seem to be getting along pretty well.

"You have that much homework already?" Percy asks Lachlan, watching him scribble things down in his notebook.

"No," Mac answers before Lachlan can, "he's just weird and likes to write when he doesn't have to."

"So you're a writer?" I ask, and Lachlan nods, after glaring at Mac. "That sounds fun. My mother used to be an investigative journalist. Not a big famous one, she worked sort of under the radar."

"But that's so cool," Lachlan insists, eyebrows lifted in excitement. "How long did she do it for? Did she ever tell you anything about it?"

"Two years, as soon as she got out of school. When Voldemort fell and the Potters died, she quit and got married. She doesn't talk about it much, you know. She was friends with the Potters and their death sort of shook her up. She got sick and everything. Not that I blame Voldemort for everything, but he did basically destroy her life."

Everyone, including Mac and Lachlan flinch at the word _Voldemort_ , but I ignore them. _Fear in a name only increases the fear of the thing itself_ , my mother has told me multiple times, and Carter - my dad - has told me that Dumbledore himself had told her that.

"You say his name?" Mac asks, tilting her head curiously, a smile appearing at the corners of her perfect, small mouth. "I like it."

"Fear in a name only increases the fear of the thing itself," I say, my mother's words rising to my lips as easily as if they were my own words.

"Sometimes the things you say are really smart," she says, then looks over at Lachlan. "A fresh change from hanging out with this loser all the time."

Lachlan uses his wand to flick a tiny ball of paper at her, and sooner or later I've been caught in the crossfire of tiny paper balls rocketing back and forth between Mac and Lachlan, a battle that demands laughter from us, but we keep the noise to a wary minimum, intimidated by the librarian.

I look from John Lachlan to Helen Flint, two beautiful people, if I'm being honest, and feel sort of intimidated by them. Then Lachlan directs a spell at his notebook and with the crinkling and shuffling of paper, the pages pull out of the binding and form a miniature Quidditch field.

Oliver leaps into eager action, and suddenly I'm part of Lachlan and Mac's excitement, I'm actually part of something that seems to be perfect, playing around with people who consider you a friend when you were afraid that no one in your house would be your friend.

Percy doesn't play- I don't think he knows how, or if he does he doesn't let on. Lachlan and I play against Mac and Oliver, who sit on the other side of the table, playing two on two Quidditch, which is basically everyone plays all the positions, including the keeper. I act more functionally as a Chaser, and Oliver plays as mostly keeper, although, he keeps flitting out his little paper figure to hurl Bludgers at me with startling, sniper like accuracy. If Oliver ever becomes Beater, the world needs to look out.

We eventually get so loud that we're thrown out of the library, and with a wave of his wand Lachlan returns the pages of his notebook back into book form. We file out of the library, Percy following behind with his nose in the air and his books gathered tight to his chest, saying _I told you so_ , rolling his eyes but smiling with the rest of us anyway.

Mac and Lachlan depart for double Potions, or something detestable of that sort, and Oliver, Percy and I all head for Transfiguration with McGonagall, Oliver chattering on about Quidditch, Percy only half listening and halfheartedly replying to his rhetorical questions.

We get into the room early, and sit as far in the back as we can, because that's the sort of thing you do as eleven year olds. At least, that's what Oliver and I want to do, but Percy sort of wants to sit in the very front, but sits with us eventually.

McGonagall comes in exactly on time, gaze sweeping over us, stern. She looks at Percy, then at me, then Oliver, lips tightening with some imperceptible emotion, and I don't know whether it's a negative or positive one.

"I tell this to all of my first years. Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She looks satisfied with the hush that has fallen over us. "Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, who knows what it is?"

Percy raises his hand.

"Of course," Oliver mutters. He reaches down and pulls my mother's journal from my bag and props it up against the edge of the table so that it's partially hidden from view. Shifting the book so that it's on his left leg and I can see better, he flicks through to the pages with the pictures.

I try to pay attention to both the lesson and the journal, only hoping that Percy's notes will be better than mine are, and Oliver doesn't even try to write anything down. Oliver points at one of the drawings near the back of the book, impressed.

"Your dad?" he asks, but I shake my head. It _is_ a good drawing, and the boy looks remarkably like me, but he's not Carter. I don't know who he is, but it's just his profile etched lightly onto the old paper, and I contribute the similarities to the vagueness of the whole picture.

Percy officially becomes our primary note taker, I become the peacekeeper, and Oliver becomes the delinquent. I mean, Oliver's not _dumb,_ he's just uninterested in anything that's not Quidditch.

"Hey, Kat, do you think Snape could be blackmailed with those pictures?" he whispers to me, looking at that one moving picture with the laughing Snape.

"For Merlin's sake, Oliver," Percy snaps, as loudly as he dares from the back of the class, "shut up already. Some people are actually trying to learn."

"I bet you don't actually have to learn anything. You know it all already, don't you?" Oliver argues. "Anyway, what do you think about the pictures?"

"He'd probably just force us to give them to him and then burn them," I point out. "He obviously wouldn't let us keep them."

"That's true," Oliver sighs. "Say, do you think you could start your own journal for your kids to read when they're in school? I know what I'd write if I had one."

"You mean you just want an excuse to write in a journal because you don't think it's tough enough," I tease.

"You're a good friend," he says, grinning. "Trust me, your journal will be much better with me writing in it."

"I don't know about that," I say dubiously. "It'll be all about Quidditch, wouldn't it?"

"Sometimes I don't talk about Quidditch," he protests. "What's wrong about talking about it, anyway? You'll have some of my brilliant stuff documented for future generations."

I roll my eyes and he laughs. "You know it's true, Kat, in a few years I'll be famous and people will pay you loads for your journals just because I wrote in them."

"And I'll become Minister of Magic and people will pay more because _I_ wrote in it," Percy says dryly, having picked up on our conversation. "But we all have our dreams, don't we?"

"So this journaling thing is definite?" I ask.

"Sure, I have a spare notebook somewhere in my trunk," Percy shrugs, as the class winds down and we pack up to go. "If you want. But it'll be all under your name, Katica, I'm not risking people knowing it's mine and then looking through it to find my weaknesses when I'm Minister. Or knowing Oliver wrote in it and finding his weaknesses for when he plays for Puddlemere United."

"Don't make fun of that," Oliver protests, "that's legitimately one of my real goals!"

"I'm not making fun of you," Percy says, lying straight through his teeth, as McGonagall calls for grouping up. The three of us proceed to try and transfigure a book into a butterfly, which Percy does with varying degrees of success and Oliver does with various degrees of failure.

When I try my wand just sparks rebelliously and I put it down in annoyance, hold my hands over the book, and say the incantation.

The book rattles ominously and suddenly leaps into the air, using its covers as wings and flapping frantically above is, shredding pages like snow into our heads.

"Not exactly a butterfly," Oliver comments, "but not bad, really."

"Are you not going to question the fact that she didn't use a wand?" Percy asks.

"No, because she knows what she's doing."

"Actually, I don't," I admit, "but thanks for the vote of confidence anyway. How do we get this thing down before it snows on the entire class?"

The harder we try to catch it, the faster it flaps, until there's a thin layer of shredded paper over the entire room. McGonagall eventually spells it down, after Oliver leaps dangerously off of a chair and lands on top of me, which makes my elbow go straight up into his face and the two of us have to be sent to the hospital wing because Oliver has a bloody nose and there's a bruise on my cheek.

"Mr. Weasley, I trust you can escort them down to the hospital wing and prevent them from injuring themselves further?" McGonagall asks Percy dryly. "Take your stuff, class is almost over, anyway. You have seven inches of parchment on Gamp's Law due next class."

"Yes, Professor," Percy says, and we exit the classroom, Oliver holding his robes up to his nose and McGonagall rolling her eyes.

"I would heal you myself, but I don't want to risk incurring the wrath of Madam Pomfrey," she mutters.

"You two are such doofuses," Percy tells us, as we walk down to the hospital wing. As expected, Madam Pomfrey fixes up in instants, clucking her tongue disapprovingly.

There are two more people sitting there contritely, at the end of one of the cots, looking more injured than we are, dressed in green jerseys and holding broomsticks. Oliver stares at them for longer than necessary, and I can tell he wants to ask them stuff about Quidditch.

One of the guys, with sandy, curly hair, lifts his dark, exquisitely shaped eyebrow at us. "Got into a fight on the first day of class?" he asks me, looking contemptuously at Percy and Oliver, in their red lined robes.

"N-no," I say hesitantly, looking at Percy, who has distaste written all over his freckled face. "He just tripped."

The boy drops a wink with his blackened eye, blue ringed with vapid purples and black. "That's what we all say, dear. Don't be ashamed. We destroy them on the pitch, but that's no excuse to go easy on them in the halls."

" _Excuse_ me," Oliver protests, "Charlie Weasley is one of the best Quidditch players this school has had, and you're telling me _Slytherin_ is better than we are?"

"Wait till you've hit the field," the boy says archly, "and then we'll see who's talking."

"Alright, alright," Pomfrey says, "enough banter. I'm done with you two," she tells us, "get out of here."

Oliver, Percy and I leave the hospital wing fuming, Oliver more than the rest of us, muttering things that I'd rather not hear, under his breath.

At eight that day, I trudge my way to Snape's office, where I sit doing lines under the uncomfortable glare of Snape in the taut silence. Once finished, he let's me go, and I stand up to go, but he stops me.

"As your head of house, it is my duty to inform you that your excessive lack of control over your wandless magic has been noticed by both me and Dumbledore, and if it gets any worse than it is now, I'm afraid you'll have to take extra lessons."

" _What_?" I ask, aghast. " _Extra lessons_?"

"No doubt you'd much more prefer to spend your time with your... friends," he says, sneering slightly, "but I can assure you, if your issues begin to physically harm other students you will be asked to seriously attempt to control it."

"But I can't help it, sir. I've always been like this."

"Yes, Natsworthy, and now that you're out of an environment filled with fully trained witches and wizards, such as your parents, and in an environment filled with inexperienced children, you have to stop being so careless. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And if you explode my glass one more time, you will have detention again."

"Sorry, sir."

"Get out of here, Natsworthy."

 **Comment?**


	5. I've run out of ideas for chapter names

**Mercy**

Christmas morning arrives and I swear the amount of presents I've gotten has grown exponentially. I got two last year, and I now have around nine. Which I'm not complaining about, Merlin, no.

"Mercy!" Lily says, bursting into my room. "Good, you're awake!" Her arms are full of her own gifts, and her wand is nestled behind her ear. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" I answer, then yawn and stretch. "What time is it?"

"Eight," she tells me, dumping her presents onto the bed beside mine. She starts in on one of her presents, so I start on mine. "Clothes, every year," she says, donning a scarf and a pair of mittens.

I lift a second empty journal out of its wrapping- from my aunt, again. I set it next to my half-filled notebook (which I got from my aunt for Christmas last year). I get a whole set of makeup from my roommate Romany Lachlan, which I will never end up casually using. And Aurora Maddox had gotten me a (cheap) pillow that informs me in gold print over the white cloth that I am a pretty classy roommate.

The remaining five presents are from Lily, Sirius, Regulus, Peter, Remus and, to everyone's surprise, Severus.

"Oh, yeah, I wasn't really sure what to get you. There were so many things in the bookstore that I just had to choose one," Lily tells me, as I rip open her present. Inside the box is a messenger bag, exactly like the one I use for classes now, and I sort of just look at it.

"It's not as plain as it looks like," she hastens to explain. "I've figured out how to do an undetectable extension charm on it."

"Oh!" I grin, pleasantly surprised. "Thanks."

"Yeah, I figured it'd come in handy at some time or another," she tells me, returning the smile. "Which one's yours?"

"That one," I say, pointing at the oblong package by her left knee. She opens it, and I cut in before she can say anything. "Listen, Lily, I'm going to be really honest with you when I say that you've been probably the best friend that I've had in my life, not that I'm _your_ best friend-"

"Oh, shut it, Mercy, you're as good a friend to me as I am to you."

"Well, alright then. But anyway, I thought I should tell _someone_ about it... You know, the stuff that happened to me and my family over in America. So I've written it all down, and you can read it. Not much of a present, I know, but I also got you a ton of chocolate."

"Well, Merlin, Mercy. Thanks for trusting me enough to give it to me."

"The trust part came easy."

"I'll read it all," she promises, picking up the old book. I've been writing in it for some time now, probably a year or two, so it really is old. "But I'll probably finish the chocolate first. What'd Severus get you? I didn't even know he went down to Hogsmeade!"

I look for the package, wrapped in brown paper and simply marked with my name in Severus' unmistakeable, cramped script. Once unwrapped, I laugh.

"What? What is it?"

I hold up a very old, stuffed bear.

"What is _that_?" Lily asks, laughing as well.

"When I transferred here, Regulus was a first year," I explain, "and he and Lucius Malfoy liked to try and sneak into Gryffindor to prank us."

"I remember."

"I didn't want to tell anyone, because I was sort of embarrassed, but they managed to steal my teddy bear the only time they managed to get in."

"And Severus had it?"

"No, actually, this isn't mine," I say. "I assume he's just giving it to remind me of the whole incident."

"But it has to be _someone's_ , right?" Lily asks. "I mean, look how used it is."

"Yeah," I say, eyes falling onto the envelope at the bottom on the box. It very deliberately says _Do not let anyone else read this, I swear, Mercy, I'll kill you if you do._ I manage to get the letter secreted away as Lily opens her other presents.

"Oh, this one is from _Potter_ ," Lily says disparagingly. "His idea of a romantic card and a heart shaped box of chocolates- _did he eat one of them_?" She shakes her head as I try not to laugh. "Speaking of 'romantic' things, what did Sirius get you?"

"Anything Sirius gets me will not be romantic," I assure her.

"Right, right, I forgot. You have Carter. He's much more classically romantic."

" _Lily_! You have Severus and James! Don't be so quick to make fun of me- _I_ should be making fun of _you_!"

"Alright, alright, sorry," she backs off, smothering a laugh. "But what did he get you?"

I pull the paper off the poorly wrapped box and hear something rattle ominously inside. I grimace as I open the box, but it drops off of my face pretty quickly.

"Oh!"

"What?"

I hold up the necklace. The chain is hopelessly tangled, probably from tumbling around the box- that is way too large -but at the end there is a tiny bottle, with a gold stopper in it. Inside is a very small red rose, suspended in some perfectly clear, unusually shiny liquid. There's a letter as well, not even in an envelope, and as Lily helps me untangle the chain, I read it.

"' _I don't know what to get girls as presents,_ '" I read aloud, "' _but you'll probably like this. You'd better never take this off._ ' And then he goes on complaining about things- oh, Merlin save us all-"

The letter beings to _sing_ , and I drop it in surprise. It's supposed to be a song, but people keep interrupting Sirius and at the end he abandons the project altogether.

 _I wish you a merry Christmas-_

 _ **(R) Sirius, those aren't the right words.**_

 _ **(S) Shut up, Remus. Don't tell me how to live my life.**_

 _I wish you a merry Christmas-_

 _ **(J) Are those not the words? I thought they were.**_

 _ **(R) I'm pretty sure I know the words, James.**_

 _ **(J) You don't have to know**_ **everything,** _ **Remmy.**_

 _ **(P) I think Remus is right, you two**_ _._

 _AND A HAPPY NEW YEAAAAR!_

 _ **(J) What are you even singing this for?**_

 _ **(P) Are you recording this?**_

 _ **(R) Sirius?**_

 _ **(J) SIRIUS ORION BLACK GET AWAY FROM MY TRUNK OR I SWEAR I'LL BLAST YOU INTO A MILLION PIECES**_

 _ **(S) "Dear Lily-"**_

 _ **(J) GAAAAH**_

 _ **(S) OUCH! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO, KILL ME?**_

 _ **(J) I DEDICATE THIS OFFERING TO THE SQUID**_

 _ **(R) JAMES PUT THE KNIFE DOWN THAT'S FOR POTIONS NOT PEOPLE**_

"They're so loud," Lily complains, handing me the untangled necklace. The chain is wide enough to go around my neck without undoing the clasp, and I fold up the letter to stop it from making anymore noise, sliding it carefully between the pages of my old journal, right after the Christmas Eve entry.

"Oh, I've gotten a gift from Petunia," Lily says. "My sister. I didn't know she wanted to get me one. I sent her an enchanted quill that changes colors, but I didn't know she used it- look," she shows me the gold and scarlet cursive over the paper of one of her gifts. "That's nice, and- oooh, look, Mercy, it's a dress!"

"Nice," I say appreciatively. It's sort of a cream color, and very, very simple, but cut with a precision that will look good on Lily.

"It's to annoy me," she says, looking down at the card, "because she always calls me the family's angel child, but I actually quite like it, don't you think? I'll have to owl her back and praise her eye for fashion. At least she sent me a present this year."

We tear through the rest of our presents, I've gotten a rather wonderful powder blue sweater from Remus- it's wizard made and is so wonderfully soft and oversized that it swallows me in a warm hug, and it's got a pocket in it for my wand, because he knows I always lose mine. It's not even my wand, it's my mum's, which is probably the main reason why it's cantankerous and why I'm getting myself a wand of my own as soon as I can.

Peter has gotten me something, but I can't really get the wrapping open because it's hidden under layers and layers of packing tape. I'd gotten him a rather amazing miniature version of wizard's chess- I hadn't really realized how much I'd liked it until I was wrapping it.

I promised him in the card that I was going to hold him to multiple games of chess after break, I like the pieces so much. Although they're pretty small and all handmade, I feel like they've been specially charmed so that each piece has its own personality.

Despite the fact that Peter has infamously described as "mousy" with his rounded cheeks and pointed chin, I can practically see the look of intense concentration that appears on his face when he plays chess, looking decidedly un-mousy. He always follows James, Sirius, and Remus around, quiet, with his shoulders hunched, which sort of adds to the entire mouse effect.

After struggling with the packing tape, I finally peel back layers of wrapping paper to find as many chocolates crammed as tight as humanly possible into one 7x9x11 box. They cascade out onto my bed and my lap in a shower as I open the lid of the box, all different sizes and shapes and colors, but all unmistakably chocolate. In fact, the smell of chocolate begins to fill the entire room, and Lily turns to me with a wide grin.

"Oh, holy Merlin, how many are there?" she asks, leaning towards me to snitch one and eat it for herself.

"I don't know," I say, spelling the candy back into the box as fast as they spill out and slamming the lid on the box when I've gotten all I can inside. Then I eat some of the excess that remains on my bed.

"One last present, for you," Lily says, and watches as I tear open the last remaining box, which is from Regulus. A gold snitch shoots out of the molded black box, fluttering into my face and then shooting around the room. I drop all of my things, leap up, and launch myself off of my bed, very barely catching it.

"Bravo," Lily calls, clapping. "Better than Potter. Speaking of which, you'd better not let him get his hands on that, I can bet you that he'd run around pretending to be cool with it all the time."

"I don't doubt you," I say, as the snitch's wings furl around it and it lies still. I drop it into the pocket of my new sweater, then reach over to grab another of Peter's chocolates.

"We'd better get down to the Great Hall," Lily says. "It's nearly nine."

So, with our new sweaters and necklaces and all, Carter's present in my pocket, we make our way down to the Great Hall.

"Merry Christmas!" Sirius sings out, leaping down the stairs into the common room and nearly crushing me as he jumps from the last step straight onto my shoulders.

"Sirius!" I cry, as both of us go down. "Don't kill me on Christmas!"

"Are you wearing it?" he asks, helping me up, then pulling the hood of my sweater away from my neck so he can see the chain of his necklace.

He pulls the vial out from under my shirt, then presents it to Remus, who had come down the reasonable way and had greeted Lily while watching all the air from my lungs leave me.

"I got her a normal present," he says.

"Thank Merlin," Remus says. "I see you're wearing that sweater. How's it doing for you? I'd thought it would be too big."

"I like it bigger," I smile. "Thanks."

"I can probably wear it," Sirius says. "Can I try?"

"No."

"Why not!?"

"Because it's warm and I'm wearing it right now."

"Don't be like that, Mercy. _If you give a little love, you can get a little love of your own,_ " he sings, surprisingly well.

"Have I mentioned that you amaze me, Sirius?" Remus asks.

"Not yet today," he answers, grinning. "This'll be a first. Anyway, where's the food? I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry," Remus rolls his eyes, following behind Sirius as he bounds out of the porthole.

"Merry Christmas," Lily says to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who trills out a reply as we pass.

"Hey, Mercy," Remus says quietly. "Sirius is going to try and kiss you today, okay, and-"

" _What?!_ "

"-and I need you to slap him, alright?"

"I would anyway, but _why_?"

"We bet money," Remus informs me, looking up to where Sirius is dashing towards the Great Hall. "And I honestly don't think I can afford to lose this one."

"Making bets, shame on you, Remus John Lupin," I mock-scold him.

"It was an easy one to take, I didn't think you'd do anything different."

"And yet you still felt the need to tell me to hit him."

"Just making sure, just making sure."

"Hey, you guys!"

"Carter!"

"Mercy!"

"Merry Christmas!" he says, excitedly.

"Merry Christmas!" I return, surprised with the hug he gives that requires me to tiptoe as hard as I can and for him to hunch over.

"Here-" I hold out his present to him, and he holds out a package for me as well. "Sorry it's not the most expensive. I haven't got a lot of money," I inform him, feeling suddenly self conscious as I look down at the expensive green and gold wrapping paper. "Although you obviously do."

"Ah, money isn't everything," Carter waves this away. "You of all people should know."

"Should I open it now?"

"Oh, if you want to."

"I think I'll save it for later, so I have something to open at the end of the day," I decide, and Carter shrugs, pocketing his gift.

"I will as well, then."

"Sev with you?" Lily asks him.

"He was behind somewhere, with Regulus."

"Oh, good, Regulus," Sirius says. "I want to have a word with him, about his dysfunctional taste in socks."

"And I want to have a word with you about your horrid taste in ties!" Regulus calls, from where he emerges at the end of the hall, Severus in tow.

Sirius pulls up the leg of his pants to reveal the ugliest pair of green and red socks I have seen in my life, and Regulus pulls his robes away from his chest to reveal the ugliest red and green tie I have ever seen in my life.

"Oh, _Merlin_ , Sirius," Remus says, looking askance at the tie. "That's _hideous_. Is that actually a hippogriff pattern on it?"

"I quite liked it," Sirius says defensively, looking slightly and genuinely injured.

"And I liked those socks," Regulus points out.

"Just roll with it, just roll with it," I mutter to Remus' scandalized reactions. He shuts his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. "There you go," I tease. "All calmed down, are we? Just don't look at them again."

"And you, Mercy," Regulus says, "look _far_ more attractive than my brother."

"Stop it!" Sirius protests. "Stop flirting, I'm allergic to it!"

"Merry Christmas," Regulus says to me, ignoring Sirius.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Stop iiiiiiit," Sirius cries, covering his eyes as if he's seen something indecent. "It's in your eyes, Reg, even if you're not saying anything! Stop looking at each other, I think I'm going to vomit!"

"Don't be such a drama queen," Regulus complains. "We're just saying Merry Christmas."

"And that's coming from the reigning Drama Queen himself?" Sirius retorts. "Don't lie, I can hear you complaining to our parents about me- " he throws a hand up against his forehead in a mock faint. '"Oh, make Sirius shut up, I simply _cannot_ go on with all the racket he's making I think I may kill myself!'"

"Aw, shut it," Regulus says, as Carter breaks into laughter at Sirius' imitation of Regulus. "Let's get inside. I want breakfast."

We're greeted in the Great Hall by all the teachers except Slughorn, for which we are all grateful. I think I catch McGonagall muttering about how she's never seen Slytherins and Gryffindors get along so well, but oh well, Christmas miracles do exist, but she falls silent as we sit down.

"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore says cheerfully, and we all respond with some happy greeting or another, except Severus, who mutters something and doesn't look up. "Go on," the head master prompts. "Start eating!"

Regulus's hand flashes out before I can even move and removes the entire basket of pasties from under my hand, then flashes me a mischievous grin.

"Hey!" I protest. "You can't take the whole thing!"

"I'm saving you from your Slughorn-ish demise," he tells me. "Speaking of Slughorn, have you gotten this invitation for a club or something?"

Sirius, from across the table makes a face. "Why, have you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Mercy and Severus and I got them," Lily tells him, "but I'm the only one who actually goes to his meetings or whatever."

"I don't know why," I say, rolling my eyes at her. "I wouldn't go if you paid me. But you're the teacher's pet, aren't you, Evans?"

"So you're saying I shouldn't go?" Regulus asks, as Lily opens her mouth to protest, then shuts it.

"I don't know," I shrug. "I've never gone."

"Good," Regulus says, "because I haven't gone to his parties or anything at all."

"He just gets drunk at his own parties," Sirius tells us, waving a hand dismissively. "But sometimes it's funny to watch, I suppose."

"How would you know?" Lily asks, curiously.

"You can't keep me away from good food, Evans."

"It's really not that bad," Carter breaks in, "the parties."

"Oh, I forgot. You're part of it too," Lily exclaims. "Yeah, they're not too bad, honestly. I just don't really like staying up doing absolutely nothing when I could be doing homework."

"Well, that's definitely not the reason why I don't go," I say.

"Yeah, Mercy, you spent that whole one night playing exploding snap with us," Remus says. "I thought you'd go to the party instead, since F-"

I slap a hand over his mouth, knowing what he'd about to say, and he struggles for a few moments, before falling silent and pulling my hand away.

" _Sorr-y,_ " he says, exasperated. "I thought it was obvious."

"Shut up," I frown, ears turning red.

"Yeah, well if you would just stop checking him ou-"

" _REMUS!_ "

"Sorry, sorry."

"I sense a scandal," Sirius announces, lifting his eyebrows until they disappear into the hair that falls into his face.

"Yes, tell us, who is it?" Regulus leans towards us. "You can tell us, Mercy."

"And here we see the Gossip Master and Drama Queen at work," Carter says. "We all know who it is, stop making it such a big deal."

"We do?" Lily asks.

"Oh, come _on_ ," Carter laughs. "It's obvious, isn't it? It's F-"

I chuck a pastie at his head, and he ducks out of the way but gets hit anyway.

"Hey," he complains. "That's where Potter threw the bat at my head!"

"It's just a pastie!"

"I'm injured!"

"In the head, yeah, you are!"

"I take offense to that!"

"Well, good!"

"No more throwing food at each other!" McGonagall intervenes, and the discussion ends.

We pull a couple crackers, which involves Sirius pulling too hard and falling off of the bench and me getting a gold tinfoil crown and refusing to take it off.

"That was _my_ crown!" Sirius protests, scrambling to sit up again, but I don't let him have it.

"You can have the jacks," I say.

"I don't want the jacks!"

McGonagall and Flitwick kick us out of the Great Hall around ten thirty, and we leave the castle laughing about Sirius' disdain for jacks and Remus throwing said jacks at Sirius until Sirius tries to haul Remus off to sacrifice him to the Squid.

"Ohhh, what's that, Mercy?" Sirius asks, dropping the struggling Remus as the snitch zips out of my pocket. "Catch it!"

"Ouch, Sirius, get off of me!" Remus protests, as Sirius climbs up onto his shoulders and leaps into the air, completely missing the snitch and falling into a snowbank.

"I've got it," Carter says, a considerable height taller than the rest of us, reaching up as the snitch flies past and snatching it out of the air. He hands it to me, fluttering and it escapes my hands as I try to take it.

"Mercy!" he laughs, as the five of us take off after the snitch, stumbling and falling through the snow, Lily and Severus walking slowly behind us.

Remus stops running so he can leap forward and grab Sirius' collar, saying, "Sirius you're going to fall into the-!"

Sirius goes crashing off of the bank and onto the ice, grabbing Remus as he falls and dragging him down with him. The ice collapses and a sort of shocked shriek escapes both of them as the water hits them. Carter leaps into action, whipping out his wand and trying for levitation.

"You can't _Wingardium Leviosa_ people!" Remus howls, reaching out his arms and clawing into the ice to stop himself from falling in any further. "Sirius, stop pulling me into the water!"

"I'm not- touching- you!" Sirius gasps, alternating between sinking beneath the surface and grabbing onto pieces of ice that crumble beneath him.

" _Levicorpus!_ " Severus' voice roars, running towards us, yards behind, and Sirius flies into the air, suspended upside down, but Remus doesn't budge- he's tugged up into the air and then yanked back into the lake.

"Remus!" Sirius cries, reaching his hands as far down as he can, but he's dangling too high in the air to reach. "It's Squiddy!"

"It's not funny!" Remus hollers, and then is pulled under again.

"I've been trying to sacrifice someone to the Squid for years!" Sirius yells back, as Regulus goes to help him down and I skirt closer to the edge of the lake.

"I've got it, Mercy," Carter says, who had also been moving towards Remus. "You'll fall in as well, if you're not careful."

"I'm being careful," I insist, seeing a tentacle under the water as Remus comes back to the surface, gasping. " _Reducto_!"

"Are you trying to _kill_ me?!" Remus asks, flinching as the spell goes under water.

" _Reducto_!" I say again, aiming my wand in a feat of excellent aim, if I do say so myself, and this time I manage to hit the Squid. I drop my wand and stretch out both hands. "Remus!"

He grabs my hand and I haul him out of the bank, swinging him around to face the other side of the bank, only to topple over and fall in myself.

The water is icy cold and instantly plunges me into deathly silence. I have my eyes screwed shut, but open them as something touches my ankle. The Squid is there, right beside me, tentacles curled around my ankle and waist, not exactly violent- I don't think it understands that a) the water is so cold that it's killing me, b) I can't breathe underwater, and c) I can't swim.

So maybe I can't swim, but in this instant I surge up to the surface as the tentacles loosen slightly, taking large, screaming breaths of air, shocked by the cold of the outside air.

" _Accio_!" I hear Severus call, and I'm yanked free of the Squid and water. I land on the ground right at his feet.

I see Lily's concerned face, then Severus, who just looks generally displeased at having to save all of us.

"Thanks for that," I say, as both Sirius and Remus fall onto their backs beside me. The snitch whirrs around in the air, then lands on my nose.

"Bad snitch," I say. "Bad, bad, snitch. Look what you've done."

We all just lie there for a moment, then Sirius starts to laugh - sooner or later we all are, and even though we're frozen stiff we scramble up and Regulus hurls a snowball at Sirius.

"You guys are going to catch your deaths," Lily says disapprovingly, but joins in once I manage to hit her with a snowball. We've sort of sectioned into teams- more like who's trying to hit Sirius and who's not, because Sirius has some sort of spell going for him and it's an unfair advantage.

Lily, Severus, Regulus and I take cover behind a snowbank.

"How is he _doing_ that?" I protest, hearing him whoop out a threat to send us to the Squid.

"Gemino charm," Severus says unexpectedly. "I didn't know he knew how to do it."

"Can _you_ do it, is the important question, Sev?" Regulus asks.

"I think," he says doubtfully, looking at Lily. "Have you seen how to do it?"

"It's a curse, isn't it?" she asks worriedly.

"It can be, but it's not usually, usually it's used as a cha-"

A barrage of snowballs fly towards us and blow the snow bank completely away. "You can't hide from us!" Sirius crows, and we take off running. Severus is trying to run and fumbling with his wand at the same time.

"Protect our secret weapon!" Regulus hollers, turning on a dime and charging towards Sirius. "For Severus!"

I similarly echo his rallying cry before tackling Carter to the ground. "But it's not a secret anymore!" I yell.

"It doesn't matter!" Regulus calls. "Evans! Stop Lupin!"

Lily stands in between Severus and Remus, who is grinning and suspending about twenty snowballs in front of him.

"I swear, hanging around Potter and Black hasn't done you any favors," Lily says, and in a split second, Severus whirls out from around Lily and at the same time, he and Remus release the larges volley of snowballs I have ever seen in my life.

Sirius wrestles free of Regulus and starts making more snowballs, but Regulus rockets an enormous one straight at his brother and Sirius goes sprawling into the snow.

Lily is laughing so hard she has to hide behind Severus and hang onto him for dear life, because Remus looks like some sort of avenging snowball angel, making dozens and dozens of them, as fast as Severus is making them.

"Gah!" I launch myself at Remus, even though Carter is hanging onto my coat, and the three of us fall into the snow. The machine gun snowballs stop, and for a moment we all sort of rest for a moment.

"You know," Remus says. "I don't feel quite well."

"Me neither," I admit.

"Well, I feel fine," Sirius declares, and then sneezes.

As if summoned, Madam Pomfrey appears with righteous indignation.

"Minerva told me you'd fallen into the Lake, you stupids, don't keep playing outside if you've fallen into sub-zero water! In to the castle, now!"

Mumbling but generally just trying to get extra snowballs down each others clothes, we follow her into the school.

 **Katica**

It's only nine o'clock, which means I can stay out for another hour. Similarly predicting the general migration to the library, Percy and Oliver have taken a seat up at the table at the very back of the library, right next to the window.

"Hi," Oliver says, not looking surprised to see me.

"Hi," I return. How'd you know I was here?"

"Oh, Percy said he was certain you'd be here eventually."

I sit down next to Percy. "You were, were you?"

"Well, you try to stay out of Slytherin Common room as much as possible. How was detention?"

"Just lines."

"It could be worse, I suppose."

"We've gotten your journal," Oliver says, showing me the standard leather bound notebook. It already has my name written in it. "And look- if I want to write in it, but I don't have it I can use this-" he picks up a black quill. "And watch!"

He pulls out a separate piece of paper and writes on it, and the words appear on the notebook.

"So I can truly never be caught with a _diary_ ," he says. "Percy's got one as well, and there's a third if you want. It's the quills that make the writing appear places- the paper you use doesn't really matter."

"Where'd you get these?" I ask.

"Oh, Bill uses them to pass notes, but he said he didn't need them anymore," Percy says. "The words will appear on all of the pieces of paper, but if you destroy the papers it wouldn't erase it from the book. He helped us enchant it."

"Quite handy of Bill to help us," Oliver says cheerfully.

"It's actually how he got his Ravenclaw friend to share all of his notes with him without him knowing," Percy says darkly, as if stealing notes from other people is heavily frowned upon according to his value system.

"Go on and write your name in it," Oliver prompts, so I take the book from him and write my name carefully on the cover page, in the best handwriting I can manage.

 _Katica Hester Natsworthy_

"That's done, then," Oliver says cheerfully. "Better not lose this quill."

Over the course of a few days, a lot of random scribbling appears in my new notebook, mostly hurried notes from Percy, Quidditch strategies from Oliver, and random doodles from me- the nib of the special quill truly is phenomenal for drawing.

We use it to talk to each other, and plan meetings in the library- for every diary entry of my mother's that I read, I write one in what Percy has taken to calling the _Commentariolus_ , and Oliver has taken to calling the 'tariolus, because he doesn't like saying the entire thing out. Eventually he shorts it out to just "the tare", which usually leaves other people mystified when he talks about it.

I'm sitting in History of Magic, writing out my notes with the charmed quill so that I can complete my map of the network of secret or otherwise hidden passages through the dungeons on a piece of scrap paper, when suddenly words begin to appear all over my notes- things that Percy and Oliver are writing with their own quills.

 _You know,_ Percy objects, as he and Oliver sit in Charms, _I'd have thought all of your entries would be about Quidditch, Olly._

 _And I thought yours would be all about studying,_ Oliver returns. _Which most of them are._

 _We live in a school, remember?_

 _Well, Katica doesn't talk about studying all the time._

 _That's because I like people watching,_ I interject, scribbling in my margins before writing something down about the troll revolution or something.

 _Oh, you're here?_ I see Oliver's handwriting spell out the words messily right across my notes. The words vanish after a few hours, unless you use _inveteratio_ , so that potentially no one can just pick up your things and read.

 _Yeah, well if I didn't know any better I'd think that you were psychological profiling everyone you see,_ Percy complains. _The only interesting ones are the ones about the professors._

 _I have to admit that whole commentary on Snape was excellent, especially after you let us read your mum's journal,_ Oliver agrees. _Oh, but the stupid prank ideas are pretty great. And how did you know there was a secret passage going from the dungeons to Hogsmeade?_

 _Yeah, were you planning out a heist through Hogsmeade?_ Percy asks.

 _I was theoretically planning._

 _I see why you're in Slytherin,_ Oliver says.

Percy, sensing an angry outburst from me, hurries to change the subject. _By the way, Kat, your wand is actually in my bag._

 _MY wand?!_

 _Yeah, you put it there on Sunday so that Olly would stop throwing it into the lake._

 _Right, right._ I remember, _So that the Squid wouldn't eat it._

 _Well, it's your fault you-_

Percy writes over Oliver, forcing him to stop by scribbling as much as he can until he has no choice but to stop. _It's been sparking since Charms started and I'm trying not to let it set things on fire._

 _It's just being a git,_ I write, _just tell it to stop._

 _I'm not talking to a wand!_ Percy insists. _How do you even do magic with it?_

 _She doesn't,_ Oliver points out. _If I weren't her friend, I might say she was a squib._

 _HEY!_

Once again, Percy stops Oliver from writing, and I only know this because there's just a lot of garbled lines coming from Oliver and I assume that Percy is wrestling his quill away from him.

 _So,_ Percy returns, _what do I do with your wand?_

 _It's more sentient than most, don't worry._ I assure him.

 _It's not me that'll be worried_

 _Yeah, it'll be Flitwick,_ Oliver says, obviously regaining possession of his quill.

 _Oliver, he's coming over, give me your paper_

 _No, I've got it_

 _OLIVER!_

 _..._

 _OLIVER!_

 _What? What's going on?_

* * *

"Is there something wrong?" Flitwick asks, approaching the two boys. Percy shrinks back into his seat, looking contrite, as Flitwick holds out a hand for their papers.

In a fit of panic, Oliver balls up his notes, tosses it on top of Percy's notes, then raises his wand.

" _Incendio!_ "

"Oliver!" Percy leaps out from behind his desk and Flitwick extinguishes the fire with a smooth flick of his wrist. He looks disapprovingly at Oliver, who looks unrepentant, and Percy looks horrified.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, and I'm afraid detention is also in order to restrain your future tendencies for arson, Mr. Wood."

"Stop using big words, it hurts my brain," Mr. Wood says, grinning in a way that made it clear that he was just messing with the professor. Flitwick sighs as Percy regains his seat and Oliver reclines a bit in his chair.

This had better not be a repeat of the 70s, when Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew wreaked havoc in the halls of Hogwarts. Flitwick had seen the Natsworthy girl and he and the rest of the staff could only fervently hope that the 70s were truly a unique experience.

 **Like? Review? I like Mercy's story line better 'cause of Sirius :) and also Christmas in June**


	6. Another chapter, another day

**Mercy**

Madam Pomfrey manages to fix Sirius, Remus and I up with something, and we're all sitting in the hospital wing- all seven of us, Sirius Remus and I on one bed and Carter, Lily, Regulus and Severus on the other.

We're just sort of chatting and trying to shake as much snow from our clothes as possible, and at one point or another Regulus just sort of slips away and no one seems to notice except Severus and I.

While Pomfrey's back is turned, I manage to follow Regulus and leave the room while Sirius is doing something dumb and no one is looking at me. I've shaken all of the snow from my clothes, and pull my hoodie on over my head as I walk out of the wing.

"Hi," Regulus says, as I approach, as if he'd expected me to follow him.

"Hi."

"Sorry the snitch made you guys fall."

"Oh, don't sweat it. But why'd you get it for me?"

"You know," he shrugs. "I stole it, and I figured I should give you back something in exchange from the thing I stole from you."

"What?"

"I stole your bear, last year, remember?"

"You could've just given him back, you know, instead of stealing something else."

"I don't know where it is. I lost it."

" _You lost Mr. Finley?!_ "

"Is that his name?"

"Regulus!"

"Yeah, yeah, I lost it. Someone stole it from me."

" _Someone stole it from you?!_ "

"Calm down, Mercy, it's just a stuffed bear."

"Then why did you take it!"

"I needed to take _something_ before McGonagall came up to kill us, and that was the nearest thing!"

"How did you even get up into the girl's dormitories?"

"That's a secret."

"I can't believe you lost him! Why would somebody steal him from you?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was a mistake and they took it on accident."

"But he's my bear!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I brought him from America!"

"I'm _sorry_!"

"He was the only thing I had left, save for my accent!"

" _I_ know who took it," comes Severus' voice from behind us, and we both turn.

"Severus," Regulus says evenly, but for an instant I detect some sort of hostility in his voice, then it's gone.

"They were being stupid, your brother especially, so I thought I'd better leave," he explains, walking up beside us. "Mercy, I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About something."

"If it was you who stole my teddy bear, Severus, I swear you're going to die."

He smiles slightly, and I turn to Regulus, smile, reach out a hand, and rest it right in his before Severus whisks me away. Regulus looks startled as we leave.

"What is it?" I ask Severus, annoyed.

"Not here," he mutters. "Come on."

I follow him through the weird and unfathomable network of passages through the dungeons and resurface on the other side of the school. "I didn't know there were passages up to here," I say, but he doesn't answer. "Severus, _what is it_?"

"I don't know if you've heard," he says, face drawn and cold as the two of us sit on the floor of the abandoned hallway. "But Regulus Black isn't someone you should walk around with alone. And unarmed."

"What? Why? Hang on, _unarmed_? I have my w-"

Severus reaches into his pocket and produces my wand, which sparks a bit as he hands it to me. "You dropped it out on the ice."

"When were you planning on giving it back to me?" I ask, annoyed, but he ignores me.

"There's something really weird going on," he insists. "You remember Malfoy? Well, he's gotten his hands up in something that Regulus is now involved in as well. I don't know if it's because of his family, or what, but you need to be careful."

"Regulus came to me to ask for help," I say stubbornly. "Because he didn't want to follow his family."

"Yes, but he's a Slytherin, Mercy."

"So?"

"We _lie_!"

"I'm aware of that. I lie as well."

"There are things that they talk about in the common room that is enough to scare anyone out of their wits. I don't know what your blood status is, and I know that you also don't care what it is- maybe you don't know, maybe they don't have that sort of thing in America- _but they care_."

"I can take care of myself."

"That's what you say, but there are dozens of them. Rosier, Avery, Mulciber, Nott, Malfoy, the LeStranges- Rastaban and Rodolphus, Bellatrix Black will kill you without a second thought, then there's the Gaunts and Carrows- they're all part of something that we have no control over."

"Hang on, that's all your friends," I point out.

"Why else do you think I've been staying away from Lily?!" he asks, exasperated. "She can't stand them, and I don't want them to be around her! This has been the only time I've had to talk to her like usual, because none of them stayed for Christmas!"

"Well, why are you friends with them?"

"For the same reason that Remus Lupin is friends with those blasted Marauders and Carter Natsworthy is friends with you. No one else will take them in."

I stare at him for a long while. "You know about Remus, don't you."

"Lily knows too."

"Am I the last one to know?" I ask, exasperatedly throwing my hands in the air.

"Possibly," he admits, hiding his pleased grin.

I roll my eyes. "And what's this about Carter? He's nice."

" _Exactly_. He's nice. Slytherin is for the people who are willing to do anything to get what they want -that's why most of us are rich- and Carter does all that, purely because he has that strategic, chess-like way of thinking. Not because he's ruthless like people paint us to be."

"And you?"

"And I don't have the bravery to be in Gryffindor. Merlin, Potter has told me enough times. I'm not _brave_ , Mercy, I skulk about in the shadows and do the things I do so that I can survive."

"You don't have to. Just because you're a Slytherin doesn't mean you need to follow all the things they do."

"Slytherin has gotten darker and darker and Carter's the only one with enough courage to remain _good_. I've just told you- I'm not brave, and I've just buckled under and joined them when they asked me to. Of course there are those who default to follow and succumb, but Carter's been doing pretty well, I have to admit."

"You shouldn't be friends those people with them if they're what you're implying they are," I tell him. "I've heard about them and their master, rising to power. That's not something you should be involved in."

"I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do."

"I can take it."

"Well, you shouldn't have to," I insist.

There's silence between us, and the cold floor seems to seep through me straight into my bones as I realize that even though Hogwarts, precisely here and now, is the safest, happiest place, it may not stay that way forever. It's only third year, but we've all felt something dark begin to emerge all around us.

"What are you two doing?" Sirius' voice rings loudly off the walls, as he emerges at the end of the hallway.

"Drat," Severus mutters, standing, and automatically reaching a hand down to help me up. His hands are so cold they're almost shaking, and when I look at him, he's avoiding everyone's eyes, hair curtaining him from the rest of us.

"How'd you find us?" I ask Sirius suspiciously, pocketing my wand.

"What were you doing?" Sirius returns. Remus, Lily and Carter appear behind him, Remus looking faintly amused.

"Talking," I say.

"About what?"

"How did you find us so quickly?" I ask again.

"I have my ways," he says cryptically, and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Which means he looked at his ma-" Lily begins, but she's cut off.

"SHHH," Sirius hushes her loudly, "Don't tell, Lily, or else we'll have to Obliviate you."

For a moment Lily looks genuinely concerned, then rolls her eyes. "Empty threats," she dismisses Sirius, but he grins and leans forward until he's eye level with her.

"Don't think we won't," he says.

"What do you mean 'we'?" Remus asks suspiciously. "I'm not helping you Obliviate Lily!"

"We'll see, Moony, we'll see."

"Stop calling me that!" Remus says, frustrated. "No one calls me that except you and James!"

"Come on, even Peeves calls you that."

"Peeves doesn't count, stupid!"

Sirius rears back in mock outrage. "I'm smarter than you are!"

"Then why do I get better marks than you?" Remus counters.

"Because grades are overrated!"

"And it annoys his parents," I add, and Sirius nods in enthusiastic agreement.

"Hey, whose side are you on?" Remus asks, looking at me. I just shrug and grin, and he rolls his eyes. "Traitor," he teases. "Come on, it's time for lunch."

We all walk to the Great Hall, meeting Regulus halfway. Once at the table, we sit towards the end farthest from the teachers, and I end up in the middle, between Carter and (devastatingly) Slughorn.

"Hey," Carter says, as he sits, and I feel a sudden surge of affection for him, him being - as Severus had described - one of the few openly and blatantly 'good' Slytherins left, hanging on admirably well in the face of people like Severus' friends.

"Hey yourself," I say back, and the food appears before us.

"So, Gaffery," Slughorn says cheerfully to me, and I exchange a dread-filled look with Remus, who sits across from me. "How has your Christmas been?"

"The best I've had in my life," I say, rather more sarcastically than I meant to say it.

"Good, good. You know, I was disappointed to not see you at the party before break started. Felix Edminston was asking for you, you know."

I can feel my entire face slowly turn a violent shade of red. "Really, Professor?" I manage to choke out, as Sirius stares at me and suddenly grins hugely.

"Yes, yes, looked a bit disappointed when I told him you hadn't come," Slughorn says, a pleased tone invading his voice. "Between you and me," he lowers his voice. "I think you'd make a good match."

I open my mouth, then shut it. "I'm sorry, Professor? Edminston and I have never really gotten to know each other, I don't think-"

Sirius inches closer to Remus, until he's pushed him almost straight into Sprout, who sits on the other side of Remus, who looks insanely uncomfortable with being so close to a teacher.

"Ouch!" Something hits my ankle sharply, and I look at Sirius. "Sirius!"

"Who's this Edminston guy?"

"The tall and thin Ravenclaw with the glasses," Remus says. "You must know him, Mercy always stares at him in Transfiguration."

"I do not!" I protest.

"I don't know who you're talking about," Sirius says, mystified. "Transfiguration?"

"He sits a few rows up," Lily joins in, and I give her the evil eye. "Attractive, you know, in that quiet, introverted, sort of way. I don't think you've ever noticed him."

"Stop it," I plead, in mortification. "Lily, Remus, stop it."

"Everyone knows," Carter says beside me.

"I'm among enemies," I say, looking around with mock despair. "No one will come to my aid?"

"No, no, I want to know," Sirius says.

"Get out," I toss a bread roll at him, and he flicks peas back at me.

"No more throwing food!" McGonagall barks from the end of the table.

"Sorry, Professor," we chorus, and she just shakes her head.

"So you like him, then?"

"CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT IT?! MERLIN, SIRIUS STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT."

"WHAT?! MY PUPPY EYES ARE THE BEST!" he hollers back, and then takes a moment to laugh at some sort of inside joke that Remus rolls his eyes at.

"You obviously haven't seen Regulus'," I say. "Much better than yours. He looks sadder when he does it."

"You let _Regulus'_ puppy eyes work on you?"

"I didn't say they _worked_ , I just said they were the best."

"But they did work," Regulus says from the end of the table, and Sirius turns on me with mock vengeance.

"Do you dare thumb your nose at my puppy eyes?" he asks.

"I do, you artless beef-witted barnacle."

"How dare you insult my barnacle-ness!"

"Oh, I dare," I say, as both Sirius and I get out of our seats and draw our wands.

"Oh, come on, guys, you haven't even finished lunch yet," Remus calls after us.

"Outside," McGonagall snaps at us. "Go outside."

"Five sickles says Gaffery flattens him," Sprout says.

"No betting on the students!" our head of house says, but Flitwick joins in.

"Five sickles says Black beats her," he says.

"Oh, it's on, Filius," Sprout grins. "Five more say she gets first hit."

"Done."

As we run straight outside into the cold, Sirius calls, "Remus as my second!"

"No!" I cry, devastated. " _I_ wanted Remus as my second!"

"You snooze, you lose," he crows, as we all tumble out of the castle. I look over our remaining companions.

"Carter!" I choose, and he grins, ducking his head in a tiny bow, and producing his wand from his pocket.

"I fight with you to the end of the line, milady," he says gallantly, and Lily nudges me.

"He's so romantic," she whispers, and I frown at her. "Don't deny it!"

Sirius and I square off in the section of the snow in front of the entrance that has been flattened, and bow to each other.

"D'you know any good hexes?" he asks me.

" _Flipendo!"_

"I wasn't ready! And that's not even a hex!" Sirius cries, as he goes sprawling across the snow. Money crosses palms inside the castle, from where the teachers watch through the window. He's faster than I expected when he yanks out a spell. " _Petrificus totalus!_ "

" _Protego!"_ I quickly dodge, feeling the spell rocket past my ear and ricochet off of the shield. "Hexes aren't my thing, you know. I've always been better at Transfiguration."

"Nearly hit you there," he teases. " _Impedimenta_!"

" _Confundo!_ "

Both spells hit us at the same time, and Sirius staggers away as I topple to the ground, temporarily immobilised. Lily and Severus drags us away as Remus and Carter leap into action.

"Just admit my puppy eyes are better," Sirius says dazedly, sitting heavily on the ground beside me. We both watch Remus and Carter duel, with much less talk than Sirius and I had.

I manage to eventually shake myself out of the spell, and roll back onto my feet as Carter's shot down with a laughing hex. I take the time to grab Sirius' wand straight out of his hand and stick it in my pocket as well.

"Oh, come on, Mercy, I can't even see straight- how has that worn off so quickly?" Sirius protests.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " I holler, but Remus skillfully dodges the spell and sends a disarming spell of his own towards me. It hits my hand and my wand skids away from my hand.

"Ah!" Sirius says triumphantly. "You've lost!"

I run full tilt towards Remus, who sends a couple spells towards me, but I dodge them with experience as both Chaser and friend of Sirius.

"No physical contact!" Remus cries.

"You never officially said!" I yell back, and hit Remus full tilt.

"Gah!" Sirius shrieks out a war cry as he leaps to his feet and charges towards us- still a little confused by my spell, but straight enough to leap on top of us, knocking all the breath I had from my lungs. A few moments later, Carter joins in, and we go struggling down the hill.

"WE'RE HEADED FOR THE LAKE AGAIN!" Remus screams.

"CHANGE COURSE, CHANGE COURSE, REMUS YOU'RE KILLING ME!"

"WE CAN'T CHANGE COURSE, STUPID, WE'RE ROLLING DOWN A HILL!"

"HELP!"

This last comes form Carter, who has the sense to stop struggling, but we go flying down the slope, anyway, Remus trying to stop Sirius from strangling me, and I trying to disarm Remus- without a wand of my own, and we head straight for the Lake.

" _Aresto momentum_!"

We stop suddenly, jerked apart, and the four of us gasp for air in the frigid snow.

"I have it!" I say, holding Remus' wand in the air. "I've disarmed you, Remus!"

"Yeah, well I disarmed you first!" he reminds me.

"But I disarmed Sirius first!"

"While I was confused with your spell!" Sirius protests.

"So?"

"That doesn't count!"

"Yes, it does!"

"You guys are sooo dumb," Lily says, as she, Severus, and Regulus look down at us, grinning.

We all sit up, stiff in some places. I hand Remus back his wand, and Sirius his, and Remus gives me my wand back.

"I won," Sirius says. "Remus and I."

"You did not," I insist.

"Yeah, my disarming spell hit Remus, he just caught his wand again before it hit the ground."

"But that's not disarming!"

"Yes it is!"

"And Mercy tackled me!"

"You never officially said no contact!"

"Well, that's a given!"

"No, it's not!"

"I bet you don't even know the rules of dueling!"

"Well, i'm not leaving you to decide what they are."

"But Remus is the smart one!"

"I've dueled before!"

"That doesn't mean you know all the rules!"

"Back in the castle, all of you. Are you _trying_ to catch something?"

This comes form Madam Pomfrey, shaking her wand threateningly at us. We troop back inside, still arguing, and it seems like Flitwick and Sprout are also arguing.

"She disarmed him first."

"While their seconds were fighting! Pomona, that doesn't count."

"Who says it doesn't?"

"It's the rules!"

"Who makes the rules?"

"Mercy, just admit I have the best puppy eyes," Sirius tells me, as the two of us sit heavily on the staircase, exhausted.

"Never," I refuse.

"You leave me no choice," he says, turning towards me, leaning towards me, and kissing me. It's cold and wet but I'm too cold myself to feel it properly, having rolled through the snow a second time.

"I told you so!" comes Remus' voice, as I reel back and slap Sirius, the loud crack ringing through the entrance. "I told you, Sirius, you owe me ten galleons!"

" _Ten galleons_?" I ask, aghast. "You bet _ten galleons_?! That's almost eighty in American dollars!"

"I thought it was a worthy cause," Sirius shrugs, handing over the money. "It's not even mine. I stole it from my parents, anyway."

"Sirius!"

"What? I did!"

"Yuck," I say, wiping my mouth.

"Oh, come _on_ ," Sirius says. "It couldn't've been _that_ bad."

I shrug. "It was more the surprise and the slobber."

"It's not slobber, it's the melted snow from when you smashed my face into the ground! Look! My entire face is wet!"

"Whatever. What was even the point of that, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know," he says. "It's Christmas, kid."

"Don't call me 'kid'! I'm even older than you, you know."

"Really? What's your birthday?"

"You know when it is, you celebrated it! November 2, 1959."

"November 2?! That's a day before mine!"

"See?"

"That doesn't count!"

"I should be the one calling _you_ kid."

"Don't you dare, Mercy Gaffery."

"Filius, give me my ten Sickles!" Professor Sprout calls from where she still stands by the window, arms crossed.

"They don't belong to you!" Flitwick calls, beating a hasty retreat out of the Great Hall.

"Stop betting on my students!" McGonagall insists, as all the professors begin to migrate towards their respective offices. The few other students that had also been at lunch have disappeared, and the seven of us sit on the stairs.

"My thanks for defending my puppy eyes," Regulus says, as he sits beside me, and I smile at him, although I feel as if I have to force the smile a little more than usual. I just smile because I'm with people who I want to be happy, curse Severus for making it harder to do so. As if losing your family right in front of your eyes isn't a dampening memory.

"Anything for a good cause."

"Oh, sometimes I don't know if I'd call myself a good cause."

"Well, you're the bad to Sirius' good, and the good to his bad. If your puppy eyes are better than his, what's there to debate about?"

"Sometimes the things you say really are deeper than I think you intend them to be, Mercy."

"Maybe I'm just more philosophical than you think. Not all of us are what meets the eye."

He grimaces at my words, but nods, and the two of us fall silent. Beneath us on the lower stairs Lily and Sirius are arguing about something as Severus watches, and Remus and Carter are discussing something I'd rather not listen to.

"You've heard of him, then? This 'Voldemort'?"

"Of course I have," Carter says. "It's all people ever talk about in the common room, but say his name and you're in for a lot of hexes. People just say 'You-Know-Who', which is quite stupid, if you ask me."

"You make him sound like he's just another crazy, but i think we'd better watch out for him."

"I know we do. It hurts me to see one after another fall into his ideals. They eat it up as if it gives them life, when it just takes it away from them. Most of don't have a choice- the pureblood families have all but sworn allegiance to him already."

"That's hardly fair," Remus says, "to force your children into following a master they didn't choose."

"Oh, but that's how it always goes. Surely you know what it feels like to bend under the pressure of others."

Remus nods, gaze flitting up to me. "I know. But you've stayed good, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I suppose you could say that. I don't actively oppose him- oh, no -that would probably result in my excommunication from the family, but I have my moral system, and I don't need to cater it towards others."

"Smart man," Sirius joins in the conversation. "I see why Mercy likes you."

"It's just beginning, but we've got to be careful," I say.

"It seems a shame for them to make us do what they want us to," Carter tells us. "When we can so obviously make our own decisions. Sometimes it's just a matter of gathering up our courage, Gryffindor or not."

 **Katica**

We meet up during lunch, with Mac and Lachlan.

"My mum mentioned she knew your mum," Lachlan tells me.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Romany Lachlan. She was Gryffindor. I think they were roommates."

"Your mum was in Gryffindor?" Oliver asks Lachlan.

"Well, yeah. My dad was Gryffindor as well- but sort of a weird one, his entire family was Slytherin up until him. And he was a pureblood as they get, so everyone was a bit disappointed in him. He married my mother because she was muggle born. And because she was really smart and kept telling him there are such things as Nargles."

"Oh, but she kept her last name?"

"No, she divorced."

"Oh," I say, startled. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It's because he became a Death Eater. I think he's remarried, though. His kid's coming in in a couple years- the Notts, they're very pureblood. I bet you he's Slytherin as well."

We play a bit more paper Quidditch, before Percy, Oliver and I head to Transfiguration together. We don't get sent to the Hospital Wing, but we do get detention, which Percy keeps complaining about.

"You three again?"

As we walk into Transfiguration, I see those two Slytherin Quidditch players, sitting there, doing lines.

"Not another fight, huh, kid?"

"No," I say immediately, as McGonagall hands us our own chores of cleaning, lines, and organisation.

"What's your name?"

"Katica. Natsworthy."

"Oh, a Natsworthy? Wasn't your dad one of those black sheep? Married a Gryffindor."

"My father was, very simply, himself," I say defensively.

"Oh, well, whatever. I'm Edwin Chancer. And this- " he gestures to his other friend, "-is Sebastian Remington."

Sebastian Remington glances up at me, his hair falling into his face with that insouciant charm I've found most people older than me tend to have. His hair, in dark contrast to Chancer's blonde head, is long and black, frequented my streaks of brown, and his eyes are a vivid blue, nearly white near the pupils and jet black around the edges. His face is a sculpted perfection of cheekbones, a strong jaw, rounded lips and eyebrows more perfect than Chancer's are. I wonder if there's a club for snobbish rich boys with perfect eyebrows that goes around making other people feel bad. I could spend pages and pages talking about Sebastian Remington because he has that kind of face that compels and intrigues with a simple quirk of his eyebrows and the purse of his lips.

The year passes by with startling speed. The _Commentariolus_ begins to slowly fill with Oliver's mad scribblings and Percy's careful handwriting and more of my imaginary plots to otherwise kidnap, steal, or sabotage things. Oliver calls it my "Slytherin Venting Time".

Christmas is spent at home, and is surprisingly dull compared to Hogwarts, but I do get another journal from my mom and a lot or candy, which is always good.

Other than the fact that Chancer's bantering becomes more and more frequent, to the point that he even initiates conversations in the common room- the last place I want to have a conversation, life is good. I can't decide if I like the dark, fascinating Remington, the down to earth Charlie, or the strange and airy Lachlan more. I can just tell that I've been overwhelmed with a lot of attractive people- not just the guys, but the intimidating beauty of people like Mac and the haughty drawn faces of the other Slytherin girls.

My mother assures me that that was definitely not what happened to her when she was in school, and that I'm probably the one overwhelming myself.

By second year, Oliver has joined the Quidditch team as Keeper- apparently he's quite good, or so he says, and we've moved onto a second _Commentariolus,_ and the first one remains in my trunk for the occasional reference. Oliver drives Percy insane by revising Quidditch strategies when he could be studying, and I'm surprised their roommates haven't smothered both of them in their sleep yet.

I've begun to try and avoid Chancer, although I've made pretty good friends with Remington. They're Lachlan and Mac's age, but Lachlan and Mac avoid Chancer as much as possible as well. Because of my friendship with Remington, I've had considerable more success at dodging Chancer's spiteful remarks about Percy and Oliver, although it sends both of my Gryffindor friends into angry frustration everytime they see him giving the three of us a hard time. I usually don't tell them about most of my encounters with him.

"He's always like that," Remington says. "He's been taught to act that way. Once you've gotten to be his friend, you realize he isn't so bad after all."

"If anyone besides you ever decides to be his friend."

"Oh, well our parents are friends, so we've hung around each other since before first year."

We're reading my mom's journal, Oliver, Percy and I, except Oliver's in the hospital wing for a broken arm and leg- a result from a particularly spectacular save which had given Gryffindor the game against Ravenclaw. Percy sits beside me in the plastic folding chair, as I read the journal out loud.

"Why don't we ever do anything half as fun?" Oliver asks. "Dueling, falling into the Lake, slowly growing to fight You Know Who?"

"Because Percy's too uptight," I say. "Much more than Remus. Remus occasionally still plays pranks on my mum, just because she's been sick and needs a good laugh."

"Your mother is sick?"

"Yes, Perce, I've told you a million times."

"Well, I always just thought it was some cold or something."

"No, she has some disease that no one knows how to cure."

"Really? What is it?"

"Well, it's from doing something she won't tell me about- her cells- you know, that's what makes up everything living in your body-"

"Cells?"

We go off on a tangent about cells, and I try to explain them, and only Percy sort of gets it.

"Anyway, her cells have been sort of sped up," I explain, "so they multiply much too quickly and some parts where most of the excessive multiplying is happening crowds out the other bits."

"Can't they just cure it? With a slowing spell or something?"

"Well, there's a Muggle disease that's sort of like it, it's called cancer-"

"Like the star sign?"

"Yeah, except I don't know what it's got to do with star signs."

"But if it's a Muggle disease they can cure it, right?"

"Well, it's not, I only said it was _like_ cancer, we know how to cure cancer already, but Muggles don't- it's one of the big things people use to protest against the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy."

"You can't argue with that!" Percy says, surprised.

"Well, that's the thing, we know you can't, but some 8 million people die of it every year, so we're inclined to help them."

"They're just slow in their technology."

"Well, who was the one who didn't know what cells were?"

"Well, they're obviously studying the wrong thing!"

"Muggles don't have magic, they can't just zap it with a spell and it gets better. They need to actually understand why and where it starts, so they can slowly figure out a NON-MAGIC way to stop it!"

"We should make a potion or something and let them sort of accidentally discover it," Oliver chimes in. "So they can analyze it or whatever they do and come up with a cure themselves."

"But why don't we cure your mother with it?"

"Because hers is caused by magic interference, and no one has ever gotten it before- of if they have, we don't know because she got it doing something illegal."

"Was it drugs or something? Illegal spell testing?"

"I don't know! Although I don't think it's drugs. She won't tell me, and Remus won't tell me, and Carter won't either, so I've just been kept in the dark about the whole thing. If they'd at least tell me, I'd like to look for a cure."

"You?"

"Well, yeah, why else do you think I do all my extra studying in the medical field? I want to be a mediwitch."

"Gosh, Kat, I had the impression you wanted to be a criminal and you spent all your free time figuring out how to break into places and murder people without getting caught," Oliver says.

"Oh, shut it," Percy says annoyed. "Don't tease her about it."

"I'm not!"

"It's fine, it's not like I've gotten anywhere with it. But speaking about murdering people, has Bill been giving you a really hard time about some things he shouldn't really know about?"

"What, like murder?"

"Well, no, he keeps teasing that I like Remington, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know who Remington is."

"Oh, well Bill does that," Percy says, rolling his eyes. "He looks all cool and stuff, but he's really the Gossip King of the century."

"I don't know, Sirius Black sounds like a good rival for him, from what your mum has been writing," Oliver says, and from Madam Pomfrey's office, there's a crash. Seconds later, she hurries out, looking frazzled.

"Are you alright?" I ask, concerned about the cut on her hand, which is bleeding onto the floor.

"Quite alright, dear," she says, spelling the cut away expertly and cleaning up the floor with the flick of her wand. She looks hard at me. "If you don't mind my asking, who was your mother?"

"Mercy Gaffery? Do you know her?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," she tells me, "she's been in here more times than I care to count. She and her friends always got into a hundred different forms of mischief while they were in school. I'm sorry to hear she's sick."

"Oh, you heard that?" I ask, embarrassed. "It's alright, she's been sick for a while and we've all come to terms with it."

"Oh, never come to terms with something like that," she tells me. "Fight it with all that you have, because one day you might just come out on the other end as the victor."

 **Comment?**


	7. Ratings go up for language

Mercy

At the end of the day we all sit in the library, basically forbidden to go outside by Pomfrey, and shooed out of the halls for making too much noise.

"Paper Quidditch, anyone?" I ask.

"What's that?"

"You know, paper Quidditch?"

"No, actually I don't know," Sirius says. "Enlighten us?"

"Has anyone got a book?"

Carter laughs. "We're in a library, Mercy."

"No, no," I protest, "Pince will kill us if we use her books."

"FREEDOM, Mercy!" Sirius calls, so loud that I'm sure the librarian is about to descend on us with her disapproval fully fledged. "Aren't you from the land of the free?"

"Yes, but I'm not in the land of the free."

"Oh, well. Remmy, got any books?"

"No, they're up in my room, sorry."

"Come on, just use one of these," Sirius says, reaching over and handing me a book from the shelves."

"No!"

"Your heart is free, have the courage to follow it," Sirius tells me, eyes wide and honest, fringed by his thick, long lashes.

"Are you serious?" I ask, laughing at his word.

An enormous grin creeps into his face and I realize that I've made a mistake. "I'm always Sirius," he says triumphantly.

Everyone groans. "No more Sirius jokes," Remus scolds.

"But they're the best!"

"I set myself up for that one, didn't I?" I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Yes, thanks for that," Sirius inclines his head reverently towards me, and I roll my eyes.

"That was a quote from Braveheart, wasn't it?" I ask.

"Well, yeah. I watched it with Jamesy over the summer." He shoves the library book at me. "Just use this, Mercy."

"Fine," I say reluctantly, looking over my shoulder to make sure we are properly hidden from Madam Pince hidden behind the bookcases.

I wave my wand over the book and the binding opens and flattens, the pages crawling out of the spine and crinkling into shapes. It eventually forms a miniature Quidditch field, with seven little paper figures standing stock still on either side, waiting to be animated.

"Who wants to referee? One of us can't play- we've got an odd number of people."

"I'll do it," Lily says quickly, not wanting to get caught actually playing with the incriminating book.

"You can play multiple positions, it doesn't really matter," I explain.

"This is fantastic, Mercy, where'd you learn this?" Carter asks.

"Romany Lachlan taught me. She's my roommate."

"Let's go!" Sirius says, touching the tip of his wand to one of the characters. After a few moments of choosing sides and getting used to the avatars, we begin. I've been automatically drafted to play with the very inherently Slytherin part of our company, Regulus and Severus, versus Carter, Sirius and Remus. Sirius has never played Quidditch in his life, and neither has Remus or Severus, but Carter, Regulus and I snap to as we begin to play.

"That's not fair, you have more experienced players than we do," Remus protests.

"Oh, but what I lack in experience I make up for in-"

"-In stupidity, you mean," Remus interrupts Sirius. "You're going too high, what are you trying to do, drop the Quaffle on someone's head?"

"Catch, Moony!"

"For heaven's sake, I can't catch it because I'm on the other side of the field!"

"I've got it!" Carter says, as both he and I make a mad dash for the Quaffle. "Mercy!" he yelps, as I grab the Beater's bat and lob it at him. "Don't tell me you've picked up the habit of throwing bats at people!"

"It's my game, my rules," I cackle, as I maneuver my player towards the goals. Carter hurls a Bludger at me, with the bat I'd thrown at him, but it misses by a couple millimeters and Remus faces me off as Keeper.

"Give me that!" Sirius says as he flicks his player straight towards me, snatching the Quaffle away and knocking me off my broom. My paper character shakes itself, then climbs back on, just in time to chase after Sirius, who heads for Severus, who's playing keeper for us.

Regulus says something, and then I see him rocketing towards something flitting in the upper corner of one of the goals.

"The snitch!" Sirius says, momentarily distracted. I knock into him- similar to what he had done- and take the Quaffle. "Hey!"

Remus goes after the snitch- being the one closest, and I direct my character towards the vacated goal.

"No!" Carter says, zipping left to take up Remus' spot.

"Drat!" I frown, as Sirius steals the Quaffle back from me, and randomly hurls it through the goal from the other side of the field.

"Score!" he rejoices. "Phenomenal shot! Take that, Gaffery!"

Regulus goes from Seeker to Chaser in a split second as Carter takes his place, rivaling Remus for the Snitch. Regulus narrowly catches the Quaffle before it hits the ground and flies straight past us towards the goal. Sirius bats a Bludger towards his brother, but he dodges, and I take Sirius on, trying to get the bat away from him.

"You can't do that!" Carter protests, as he tries to knock Remus away from the snitch. In a magnificent feat of maneuvering, he dives, pulls up short, completely loses Remus, who plummets towards the ground, and catches the snitch.

"Victory!" I crow, louder than I should've, and Madam Pince shuffles towards us.

"Quick, put it away!" Sirius calls urgently, tipping his chair back so he can watch her progress towards us. I quickly spell the Quidditch field back into the book. "Hurry!"

The book slams shut just as she rounds the corner. She squints at us suspiciously.

"What are you doing?" she croaks at us.

"Oh- um-" I say, scrambling for an answer, and looking down at the book, which is the school's copy of Advanced Potions Making. "Just talking about potions."

"What were you saying about victory, then?"

"I- I just proved to Severus that it'd be better to use peppermint-"

"It makes it explode!" Severus interrupts, beautifully on cue. "The timing would be impossible!"

She harrumphs. "Be quieter next time." Then she shuffles away. When she's out of earshot, Sirius claps and I laugh, reaching across to grab Severus' hand and shake it vigorously. He stifles a smile and pulls his hand away.

"I applaud your acting skills, Gaffery and Snape," he says. "Bravo. Where are you when when we need you to lie for us, when McGonagall catches us doing things we shouldn't be doing?"

"Doing the things we're supposed to," I say archly.

"Oh come on, you were the one that set Slughorn's crystallized pineapple on fire," Sirius objects, and Regulus laughs, eyes widening.

"You did that? Oh, well done, well done!" He congratulates. "That was precious. How did you get it to catch fire just as he was raising it to his mouth?"

"That's a trade secret," I say. "Maybe when you're older."

He makes a face at me. "I'm only a year younger."

We head down to dinner shortly after, which goes without incident, miraculously enough. Afterwards, when it's dark out and we've sort of begun to gravitate towards our common rooms, I remember to open Carter's gift.

"Hey," I say, reaching out and snagging his sleeve. "Wanna open presents now?"

"Oh, yeah," he turns and we produce our presents at the same time, like magicians on a stage. We fumble our gifts open, and pull the lids off of our boxes.

"A camera!"

"Oh," he scratches his head. "I know yours broke last year."

"I didn't realize anyone noticed."

"Well, I was standing right there when Malfoy smashed it. D'you like it?"

"Of course I like it!"

"It does moving pictures, and it doesn't need film. You've just got to... well it's in the instructions." He gestures to a piece of paper in the box, flustered. "There's a card too."

I lift the camera up to one eye and take a picture of him, as he runs his fingers through his hair nervously, hoping that I get the picture just right, just in time to catch his half smile and chagrined expression.

"Listen to that glorious sound," I say, hearing the camera's mechanism engage. "When you click the shutter... I love it. Thanks. For noticing I lost my other one. And for getting another one."

"Oh, no problem," he says self consciously, then looks down at my gift. A grin spreads across his face, and he looks up at me. "A miniature American flag? Honestly, Mercy? Am I supposed to hang it up in my room?"

"It gets better," I laugh, as he digs back into the box. "That was just something I picked up."

"A phone? Mercy, I don't know how to use these."

"My number's on it," I say, grinning. "I'll show you how to use it- it's really easy. My aunt- she's sort of a spell maker- she showed me how to charge it, because you Wizards don't even know what electricity is, do you?"

"What?"

"It needs to be charged, it runs on a battery."

"A battery?"

"Look," I say, turning on the phone.

"OH!" he says loudly. "It glows!"

"It's supposed to. There's a bunch of tiny light bulbs inside-"

"What are light bulbs?"

"Muggles use them instead of candles because they can't quickly put fires out- try to keep up, Natsworthy."

He laughs. "So, what's this about charging?"

"You see this little bar?"

"Yeah."

"When it's less green than black, you use the spell repleo, and it goes back to being all green."

"Why does it have to be all green?"

"It tells you how much power's inside- if there's no power, it doesn't work."

"I think I get it...?"

"So if you want to call a number, you can go here-" I show him- and put the number in using these keys, or you can just go here, and I'm on speed dial, all you have to do is click OK when my name's highlighted-"

He clicks OK, and a faint ringing comes from my pants pocket. I produce my own phone and flip it open.

"See? I click this, and then you can hear me if I speak-"

"IT WORKS!" Carter yells into the speaker, and I nearly drop my phone. "CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

"You don't need to yell!"

Are you sure?" he asks, still rather loudly.

"Yes, Carter, I use these all the time to talk to my aunt. It's faster than owl. You press that red button to hang up- yeah, that's the one. And this one to turn it off and on."

"Gosh, Mercy, thanks, but I don't know what I'm going to use it for."

"Just don't use it during class. Don't worry, I'll call you. It's more for when you want to talk long distance."

"When are we ever going to be long distance?"

"Over breaks and stuff," I shrug. "It's good to have."

"Thanks," he says, pocketing the phone and the flag.

We stand looking at each other, in a sort of comfortable silence. "Well," I say, "Merry Christmas, Carter!"

"Merry Christmas, Mercy," he returns, beaming at me. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"A real Christmas."

"Nah, it's no big deal. You deserve it, Carter." We grin at each other for a moment.

"Oh, come here you," Carter leans down and rushes me up into a tight, breathless hug. I can't even get my feet to reach the ground.

Katica

Third year and Percy and Oliver have cultured their ability to stay mad at each other for about a week, which is a life time record. If I didn't know them better, I'd think they actually didn't like each other. I sort of alternate between reconciling them, avoiding Chancer, hanging out with Mac and Lachlan, and desperately trying not to shatter Snape's glass again. I'm getting better at controlling my magic, although using my wand is still a swim upstream, and I can't even swim. I've made do with what I can so far, dreading officially admitting that I suck at using my wand to anyone, although Perct and Oliver vaguely know.

I've been reading my mom's journals with Percy and Oliver, every Saturday afternoons in the library, no matter who is mad at who. We're onto her fourth year journal, which is filled with the exploits of the 'Marauders', Regulus Black, Snape, and my dad.

I have also become Chaser for Slytherin, which delights Oliver to no end. He counts it as a point against Percy, who doesn't exactly disapprove of Quidditch, just the fact that Quidditch takes time away from doing school work.

An even bigger installment, however is Fred and George. Of course, Oliver and I have heard multiple horror stories from Percy, and he's arrived on the train with fake spiders and dung bombs in his clothes and such. But I'd really never thought that they'd be so charming at face value.

"They're real charmers, aren't they?" Oliver says crossly, emerging from the locker rooms for a game, Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

"What, the twins?"

"Who else?" he asks, stamping across the fields with his broom clutched angrily in his left hand. "Those rays of sunshine set fanged frisbees off in the showers and they were eating through the pipes."

I laugh. "Is that why you're all wet?"

"Of course it is, the lockers are flooded."

"Here-" Oliver says, as we pass the shed. He tosses me a broom, and we take off up the field. "Oh, look," he calls. "The devils are here."

The two redheads are barely visible through the fog, and they approach Percy, who's sitting hunched over his homework, ready to watch the game half an hour before it's even begun, sitting in the stands. His head shoots up as the twins say something, and with more haste than I thought was possible at this hour of the morning, he packs his things and begins to run down the steps and straight out of the field.

"Hey! Percy! What's the matter with you?" I can hear one yell after him, but Percy doesn't reply and eventually vanishes completely.

We begin play, the crowd roaring louder than the announcer can talk. It's so cold I nearly fall off of my broom multiple times. At one point I lose my balance and nearly topple headlong off of my broom, only to hang on as tight as I can and send both myself and the Quaffle straight into Oliver and through the goal.

"Gah- Katicaaaa!" Oliver howls as we rocket straight through towards the ground. "Stop iiiiiiiit!"

"I caaan't!"

" Alarte Ascendare!"

The two of us slow before we hit the ground, and disentangle ourselves from the mess of brooms and limbs.

"Try not to kill me next time, huh?" Oliver asks indignantly, brushing himself off.

The two of us look over at Percy, who has his wand raised, his books on the ground in a disheveled pile. He looks like he had run back to the pitch just so that he could save us.

"You idiots," Percy says, shaking his head. "What're you playing at?"

"Ask Katica!"

"Alright, alright, you two, stop messing around and get back to the game. Natsworthy, you okay?" my captain asks, swooping past us. "No bones broken?"

"I'm fine," I say, and we get back into the air, waving to Percy, who rolls his eyes and bends down to gather up his books.

The game is more intense than the other games I have experienced thus far, especially with the weather freezing us solid. Just when we seem to be in the lead, Gryffindor yanks back their advantage and I have to struggle, along with my two other Chasers, to regain our lead.

Once the game is over, a classically victorious Slytherin win, I pass the Gryffindor boy's locker room only to hear things like:

"Is it raining in here?"

"Wood, what are you doing?! That's making it worse!"

"I'm fixing it!"

"No, you're not!"

"What happened in there?" Percy says, appearing beside me and sticking his head around the corner. "Is it flooding?"

"Your wonders of brothers set fanged frisbees inside," I explain.

"Ah, well," Percy shrugs. "They're terrors, that's for sure."

We set off walking around the pitch, waiting for Oliver to emerge. Most of the spectators have left already, and I'm exhausted from the game. The sun has burned the fog away from the most part, and from my vantage point a good couple inches shorter than him, I could swear it looks like his hair is very literally on fire, lit up by the sun as it is.

"We've got a Transfiguration test," Percy says. "Ready?"

"Considering that Transfiguration is about the only thing I'm good at, I dearly hope so."

"I've looked up thunderbird core- they're supposedly super duper advanced- like, McGonagall worthy- for Transfiguration, but it's difficult to master."

"So it is all my wand's fault."

"Maybe it would be easier if you liked each other," Percy says doubtfully. "It seems to be more sentient that most wands, and you keep yelling at it."

"Speaking of which, Perce," I say uncomfortably, "before the next Charms test- considering I failed the last one- d'you mind helping me, um, practice?"

"Of course," Percy says, flattered.

"I'm not great at that kind of thing," I admit.

"I know. You can't get along with your wand."

"It's mine," I say with frustration. "I shouldn't have to deal with its mood swings."

In my pocket, my wand sparks, as if to say I shouldn't have to put up with YOUR mood swings either.

Oliver emerges from the locker rooms, absolutely soaking wet. "Hey," he says cheerfully, "Problem solved."

"Exaresco," I say, slowly and clearly, placing a hand on his chest, and, without the help of my wand, Oliver's robes begin to steam and eventually are completely dry.

"See, it's sort of cool you don't need a wand," Oliver says.

"Yeah, but it's sort of dangerous," Percy argues heatedly. "Sure, she can use spells to make her magic specific to a certain task, but she can't control it when she doesn't intend to use it. What if she does something like she did second year?"

"Yaaaawn," Oliver calls dismissively. "Second year was fun."

"Olly, I set the dormitory on fire!"

"No one was hurt."

"I was almost hurt! Snape almost killed me!"

"But panicked Slytherins always make me laugh," Oliver points out. "You thought it was funny, too."

"Yeah, actually, I did," I say reluctantly.

"But it wasn't funny," Percy says, pursing his lips. "And you had detention for the rest of the year."

"Okay, well, Snape hates me," I remind him. "And I did set him on fire as well."

"Honestly, I think it's a miracle Dumbledore lets you walk around the school on your own, after that incident," Percy tells me.

"He thought it was funny too. I heard he and McGonagall talking about it," Oliver says, grinning.

"I shouldn't be allowed to be like this," I say. "What if someone gets hurt?"

"It's okay," Percy says consolingly. "You'll get it eventually."

"Don't make her feel like she has to make up for it," Oliver protests. "Let her be a superhero if she wants."

"Even she said she doesn't like it!"

"Don't put words in her mouth."

"I'm not!"

"Now, now, children," I say with a mock patronizing tone. "Let's all get along, shall we?"

"Katica, you're the one who said you didn't like having no control over you magic," Percy says. "Right?"

"Let's not talk about it right now," I say. "I'm hungry. I didn't eat breakfast."

"You should, you know," Oliver scolds gently.

"You didn't eat either!" I accuse.

"No, I was too nervous," he informs me, crossing his arms indignantly.

"Well, so was I!"

We walk through the cold towards the castle, gradually warmed by the sun.

"Where do we go to get food?" Oliver asks. "When it's not meal time?"

"Beats me," I shrug. "Somewhere downstairs- that's how the house elves send the food up to the tables."

"Hey, guys," someone says from behind us, and we turn. Edwin Chancer and Sebastian Remington approach us, heads ducked slightly as the walk uphill. They're Beaters for Slytherin.

"Hi," I return, uncomfortably. From behind Chancer, Remington and I exchange glances. Chancer grins, invading my personal space with a sort of half hug with Percy and I. I don't bother to push him away, and he pulls us down so far that our heads nearly collide.

"Nice game today," he says noncommittally to Oliver, then turns to me. "Told you we always sweep them off of the field."

"You were pretty good," Oliver says, diplomatically. "But we'll get better. Charlie was fantastic today, but the rest of us were sort of off our game."

"We usually win," Chancer points out. "We were very literally handpicked as the ones who have cunning and do whatever we can to win- so it's no wonder we've won."

He says this all with an air of superiority, which infuriates all of us, as he flounces off. Remington stays behind, and puts a hand out for Oliver to shake.

"You were pretty good too," he tells him, as they shake hands. "Chancer is always arrogant after we win."

"Those last three words you said were unnecessary," I say.

"I like to give him the benefit of the doubt."

"All the better for you," I shrug.

"Ah, he's nice when he wants to be."

"Hey, do you know where we can get food?" Oliver interrupts.

"Oh sure, down in the kitchens?"

"We can get at the kitchens?"

"Of course. I can show you, if you want."

We follow him down the stairs that branch off from the entrance to the dungeons, and Remington halts at a portrait of a bowl of fruit. He reaches a hand out and drags his fingers over the only pear in the bowl, and to our surprise, the pear laughs said ticklish, and the entire picture frame swings open.

"Through here," he says, stepping inside.

About fifty house elves run around inside the huge room, cooking and doing dishes and such, but they stop to stare at us. We all look at them uncomfortably, except Remington, who orders food for Oliver and I. The elves snap to, and in moments, we're sat down and handed food.

"If you thank them they start crying," Remington whispers to me, but too late- I've already said thank you, and we all look on in surprise when, true to Remington's word, they start crying.

Oliver begins to stuff his face, and I follow suit. About ten minutes later, we're leaving and waving goodbye. Remington follow us up to the library, and sits down beside me and across from Oliver and Percy.

It's too cold to go outside and read, so I crack open the fourth year journal and begin to read in a low voice. At some point in the middle, Oliver laughs so hard at something I'd read that he starts crying. He sits beside me and I can feel his shoulders shuddering with silent convulsions of laughter as he puts his head down in his arms.

"So that journal's your mother's?" Remington asks me, as we sit down for lunch, a little later.

"Yeah."

"And those were your parents, in that picture? Man, I wish my parents looked that happy together."

"Actually, that wasn't not my dad."

"No?" He looks surprised. "Then your uncle?"

"No."

"What?"

"We're not related."

"Oh, come on Natsworthy, you guys look exactly alike."

"My dad's Carter Natsworthy," I protest. "And that guy was Sirius. Sirius Black?"

"Really?"

"Really."

"Hey, you two!" Chancer sits down beside me, and I frown. "What's the face for?"

"Nothing," I say hastily.

"What are we talking about Black for?"

"What?" I ask blankly.

"He went to Azkaban, didn't he?"

"Sirius?"

"Well, yeah. He was all over the news. Crazy mass murder, killed his friend and a bunch of Muggles the week after the Dark Lord fell. People think he was one of the Death Eaters, or had some sort of loyalty to You Know Who. You didn't know? Who were you talking about, then?"

"None of your business."

"Come on now, Kitty Cat-"

"Don't call me that."

"What's wrong, honey? Did I say something that upset you?" he asks, and an antagonistic glint appears in his smirk as he gears up for more annoying teasing.

"No," I say shortly.

"Leave her alone," Remington says, and Chancer frowns. "Look, Katica, there's Lachlan and Mac."

Gratefully, I stand up and move to sit beside Lachlan.

"Nice game, today," Lachlan says idly, looking over at Chancer and Remington.

"Lucky the Weasley kid was there to catch you when you fell into Olly boy," Mac says, calling them "the Weasley kid" and "Olly boy", despite the fact that she quite likes Percy and Oliver. Giving people nicknames is her sign of endearment, as opposed to Chancer, who just does it to drive us all to hell.

"Yeah, he's handy like that," I shrug. "Good to have around."

"You like him a lot," Lachlan points out. "Don't pretend to be all nonchalant."

"I'm not!"

"On another note," Mac says hastily, seeing my ears turn bright crimson. "Theodore Nott."

Lachlan cringes. "Yeah."

"Who's he?"

"You know, Lach's half brother."

"He calls me Johnny and likes to throw money at people." Lachlan grimaces. "He's all pasty pale and his mother died or something so he's supposed to be a real jerk. Especially living around my messed up version of a father by himself."

"Oh, come on, your dad's fun."

"No, Mac, you just seem to think that making him angry is fun."

"He's as handsome as you are."

"We don't look alike!" Lachlan snaps fiercely, startling both of us. We fall into chagrined silence.

"Speaking of looking alike," comes Chancer's voice from farther along the table. "Who does Black look like? Now that I think about it, he looks awfully familiar."

Remington glances down at me, then glares at Chancer's insouciant smirk. "Edwin," he says warningly, "this isn't your job."

"What, me? I'm not doing anything. He just looks like someone I know. Hey, Kitty-" Chancer turns to me, grinning widely. "Who do you think he looks like?"

Very abruptly, Remington stands, startling everyone. "You little piece of shit, Edwin. Can't you leave people alone for once? First your stupid whore of a sister, and now you! "

A heavy silence falls over the Slytherin table as Chancer stands up as well.

"What's wrong with you, Remmy?" Chancer demands. "You get mad every time I say something!"

"Well, that should tell you something, then!" Remington says, marching over to me, snatching my wrist, and yanking me out of the Great Hall and away from Snape, who descends from the professor's table with murder written all over his face.

I have to struggle to keep up with Remington, as he marches down the hallways towards the dungeons. I protest as he turns sharply at the entryway, twisting my arm until it hurts and I cry out.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Finally, at the voice, Remington stops dragging me along and I snatch my arm back from him.

"Nothing," Remington says, bemused, not realizing that he'd come close to breaking my arm.

"Don't tell me you're dragging a third year around for no reason, Remington," Charlie Weasley snaps.

"But I was just-"

"It's fine," I say quietly, wondering how much more mortifying the situation could become, and wishing that I could just shrink into nothing and fly away. I don't think that it can get worse, not when I have about zero idea what's going on between Remington and Chancer, and Charlie Weasley, of all people, decides to appear, but suddenly, Chancer bursts into the hallway, Snape and McGonagall close behind.

"You know that you're just being an idiot," Chancer yells at Remington.

"You're being the idiot!"

"You can't hide things from people forever, you know. Everyone knows the truth!"

"I can do what I need to, for the people I care about," Remington says indignantly. "You just do what's good for you."

"I'm a Slytherin," Chancer says. "My entire family is Slytherin. We do what's good for ourselves. You're same, as well."

Remington turns away. "You disgust me, sometimes."

"And you disgust me, Remington, you filthy mudblood."

Remington's eyes widen, reaching out and grabbing my hand so hard that a tiny yelp escapes me, and McGonagall leaps into action.

"Mr. Chancer, please! Twenty points from Slytherin for despicable language, on both of your behalfs," she cries, looking from Remington to Chancer. "Now, I don't know what's going on here, but you two better calm down."

"Let's go, Katica," Remington says coldly, moving to leave.

"Mister Remington," Snape says, clearly threatening some sort of detention. "Let go of Miss Natsworthy."

Remington looks down at me, and I shrug. "I don't see what I'm doing wrong, Professor," he says, very slowly pulling me away from the center of attention, until I'm almost behind him.

Snape looks at him darkly, then turns to Chancer. "You, get back to lunch. Don't let me catch you talking like that to another student again."

Chancer looks at Remington, and unspeaking, deliberately gives him the finger, then marches back into the Great Hall, sitting down by himself then slamming his fist on the table and burying his head in his arms.

Both professors are tight lipped. McGonagall leaves, and Snape gives Remington one more long, dark look before following suit and returning to lunch.

"Let's go," Remington mutters.

"Hold on," Charlie interrupts, starting towards us. "What's going on?"

"It's none of your business," Remington snaps, and I protest, but he yanks me back up the stairs and all the way into the library.

"What's wrong with you?!" I exclaim, as loudly as is safe in the library.

"Just stay away from Chancer."

"What was that, just now?" I persist.

"Nothing, Katica."

"Fine, then," I say, standing.

"Don't be stupid, Katica, you can't go back there."

"I'm not."

"Where will you go, then?"

"That's none of your business. If you're not telling me anything, why should I tell you?"

"You really want to know, Katica? Just read on in those stupid journals. Keep reading, all the way to their fucking stupid end."

"Why are you so mad?" I snap.

"I don't know how else to get you to stop!"

"Stop what?!"

"Learning about it!"

"About what!?"

"I don't want to tell you, okay? Chancer will keep giving you a hard time about it, and all the professors will know, but you can fuck me if I'm going to let it destroy you."

"What is it?!"

Sebastian Remington just shakes his head and, similar to Chancer, puts his head down in his arms. And I leave the room, both my arm and pride aching.


	8. The reason the tag for genre is romance

**Mercy**

The next morning I wake up because Sirius Black has bounded onto my bed.

"Gah!" I scramble away. "How'd you get up here?"

"That's a secret," he grins, Remus appearing behind him moments later.

"I froze the staircase," Remus says. "Sorry to wake you, but something's wrong."

"What?" I ask, getting out of bed as fast as I can with Sirius sitting on my legs. "Get off me!"

"Well, you see," Remus says, and the tone of his voice makes me look up in some mild alarm. "Snape and Regulus got into a bit of a fight, and Carter went to stop them-"

" _WHAT!?"_

Remus sighs. "Sirius, stop staring at her, she needs to change."

"Mercy," Sirius says, ignoring Remus. "What's that?"

He's pointing to the end of my right collarbone, almost touching my skin, finally visible because I'm only wearing a tank top. We all sort of just stand there in taut silence. There's a scar that runs from my shoulder, straight across my chest, to the opposite waist, from the seat belt I was wearing during the crash.

I cover the end of the scar with my hand and turn around, picking up Remus' sweater and pulling it over my head. I pick up my wand, turn back around, and paste on my brightest smile.

"Where are those idiots, again?"

We march down to the hospital wing in awkward quiet, Sirius keeps glancing over at my shoulder, and Remus makes like nothing happened, although I anticipate that he's going to ask me about it later.

In the hospital wing are Severus, Regulus, and Carter, all of whom look pretty beat up. Regulus, for one, has multiple terrible cuts along his exposed chest and shoulders, Severus, in the far left cot, has several bruises on his face and seems to be in immense pain, and Carter, on the right, has a gash on his cheek, but as I watch him swig down whatever Pomfrey had given him, the cut heals over.

"Stupid," I proclaim, and all three of them look at me with varying versions of faint amusement. Carter makes to stand up, but in a second, Pomfrey appears and insists he lie back down. She bustles around before vanishing back into her office. "What happened?"

"About eighty points from Slytherin and a lot of blood," Carter says. "The look on Slughorn's face was precious."

"He fainted," Severus adds. "And Carter had to do on the spot healing or Black would've died."

"Making up your own spells is dangerous," Regulus says acidly to Severus, who pretends not to be affected by the obvious bruises that cover his jaw, although he winces when he starts to speak again.

"Don't the Flints make spells as well?" he argues, "I don't see you getting on their cases."

"That's because they didn't try to kill me with them!"

"You think I'd just lie there when you were doing this?" Severus snaps, pointing to his bruises.

"Do you think what you said would go unheeded?" Regulus shoots back. "You'd do well not to question my loyalty to those I love, Severus."

"You think you can call it love?" Severus snarls.

"I think I know the nature of my loyalties!" Regulus shouts, throwing himself out of bed.

"And I think I know how people like you lie," Severus returns, standing unsteadily, and tossing aside the blanket to reveal an ugly mass of bruises all along his abdomen.

"Because you yourself are a liar. Don't think no one notices how you wheedle your way up with Evans and Mercy, Severus. If anything, even _I_ wouldn't call it love. Something dirtier than that, I'm afraid."

" _How dare you_ ," Snape hisses, then launches himself straight at Regulus, and the two of them fly over the opposite edge of Regulus' bed and onto the ground.

Carter, alarmed that the fighting has restarted, attempts to stand and pull them away, then whirls away and throws up violently and repeatedly over the side of his bed into a waiting bucket. Remus hurries over as Carter almost pitches over the side of the bed, catching him just in time to keep him from falling into his own vomit.

"Regulus, stop!" Sirius roars, leaping straight into the middle of the fight, which is classic Sirius. I follow suit, managing to grab Severus and wrestle him back from Regulus, his skinny arms wheeling and hands clenched into fists. Sirius has Regulus in a headlock, and Remus is panicking over Carter's repeated regurgitation.

"Let go of me!" Regulus howls, struggling to get free of Sirius, who glances worriedly at Severus and I.

"Get him out of here," Sirius says, grunting as Regulus jabs him hard in the side. He jabs him back. "Don't get too cocky, you little sucker," he snaps. "I'm still a better fighter than you."

I pull Severus out of the room, and he glares venomously at the inhabitants of the hospital wing before I force him to walk away with me.

"FIGHTING IN THE HOSPITAL WING?!" I hear Pomfrey explode, as she reemgerges from her office. "And where is Mr. Snape?" Severus and I break into a run, terrified of the wrath of Madam Pomfrey, Severus leaning heavily on me and gasping for air.

"Up here!" I pant, "it's closer!"

We make it to the Gryffindor Common room, which Severus looks alarmed to be entering, clutching his sides in pain as he wheezes through the porthole. He's in such pitiful shape that even the Fat Lady doesn't object to his entry.

"What happened?" I ask him, as he flops onto his back on a couch near the fire, breathing asthmatically. "What did you say to Regulus?"

"Only what I had to," he says shortly, regaining his breath.

"Merlin, Severus, I don't think you had to do _this_! Weren't you just telling me to steer clear of Regulus? And then you start a fight with him! I swear to God, Sev, if i didn't know you better I'd think you _want_ to die."

He winces slightly as I point at the bruises on his chest. "He started it," he says sullenly. "I can heal myself, look." He props himself up on his elbows and begins to spell away his injuries.

"Stop, stop, I'll do it," I say, somehow sickened by the sight of Severus mechanically healing himself, as if this was a normal ritual. He glowers at the ceiling and shivers imperceptibly when I pull his hair from his face to get rid of the obviously fist-shaped bruises and trail my wand over the discolored skin.

"He was talking about Lily," he says finally, when I'm almost done. "And you. But he doesn't even know Lily, how can he make fun of her?"

"Quite the knight in shining armor, I'm sure," I say wryly. "Stop moving, Severus, there's one under your jaw. Damn, Regulus must've been mad at you."

"If it's any consolation," he drawls, looking at me, "it's not your fault."

"I never said it was."

"Oh, come on, I can see it on your face."

"I don't like it when my friends fight," I say indifferently.

"Regulus Black is a dangerous one to call a friend," he cautions me. "Even if he himself calls you one."

"Severus, my friends are my friends, and I love them no matter how dark they are. Including you. If I can be friends with you, the dark introvert of the century, I can be friends with Regulus." I grin. "Besides. I love danger."

"It's not a game."

"Did I say it was?"

"Mercy-"

"I know what I'm getting into, alright?" I interrupt. "I don't need you to tell me. But if it's for Regulus, for Carter, for you, it's not a problem."

"It _is_ a problem. We're steeped in all this... this madness. You're not!"

"Lie back down, Severus, and do me a favor and shut up."

He frowns as he goes back to staring at the ceiling. "A witch after Madam Pomfrey's own heart," he grumbles.

"Uh uh- what did I say? Shhh."

"Mercy-"

"Just take a moment to do absolutely nothing at all, for once. What are you going to do? Go back up there and fight Regulus? It's the day after Christmas, for God's sake. What ever happened, you took as much part in it as he did, and that means I'm possibly a little mad at you."

He sighs heavily and glares at the ceiling.

"By the way, did you go at him with a knife, or what?"

He sits up, crossing his skinny arms over his chest. "A spell."

"A spell that you made?"

"I guess."

"You guess? Hell, Severus, that looked like some deep stuff."

"Sorry."

"Sorry?" I echo.

"I'm sorry I made it. I've been hanging around that Flint guy, and his family makes spells. He told me the basics of how."

"Nah, it's fine. _Levicorpus_ is one of yours _,_ right? You used that yesterday."

"Well that's an easy one. This one was _Sectumsempris._ " He says the spell with an easy, practiced elocution. "I actually made it with Potter in mind, but the incantation's a bit wonky. I'll have to fix it."

" _Severus_."

"Well, sor- _ry_." He rolls his eyes. "I don't like him, and he doesn't like me. Even _you_ don't like him!"

"Yeah," I admit, "but I don't plot and scheme to kill him."

"I wasn't!" he protests. "He always tries to hex me- I might as well be ready!"

I shrug. "He's a bit worried," I reason, "because he likes Lily, and you're friends with people like Dolohov and the Carrows. He doesn't like you around his precious Lily."

"That doesn't mean you hex me," he argues. "I wouldn't be the bad guy if he didn't make me out to be one. You know, right? We're friends. You know I'm not bad."

"You're not, Sev. But to him, you _are_ very clearly the enemy. You're his rival for Lily. A threat."

"Am I really?" Severus straightens and looks at me, almost as if he can't believe it. " _I'm_ the enemy?"

"Not to me, at least. To me, you're... sad and strange Severus. My friend. A ghost that needs reviving. But to James you're the only one he's not as afraid of as the others. It's safer to initiate conflict with you than the Carrows."

"Point. The Carrows would just _Crucio_ him until he couldn't think and then leave him for dead."

"How can you stand them?" I protest, shuddering. "If that's what they do to other people, I couldn't even stand next to them. That's sicker than I care to think about. Don't they have some moral boundaries? They're so-" I break off, so completely disgusted that I have no words I can possibly say.

"I don't know. I should just stay away for Lily's sake," Severus mourns. "My other friends hate muggle borns. I don't want them to hurt her."

"Yeah? Then why are you friends with them?"

"Because they'll kill me at this point if I fall out with them."

I shudder slightly. "Fair point. But still, this wouldn't be a problem if you'd never hung out with them at all."

Severus makes a face. "Don't think I don't know that."

"I know, I know," I sigh. "I won't add anymore to your regret. I'll let you wallow in your self deprecation."

He curls his legs under him, tucking his bare feet into the opposite knee, and stares at the fire, his default, classic dark scowl written on his face.

"Lighten up," I say, leaning into his bare shoulder. "It'll be okay, Severus."

He laughs derisively but doesn't say anything.

"You cold? You can have my sweater."

He accepts the sweater without comment, pulling it clumsily over his head, but once he reemerges from the folds of cloth, his gaze immediately latches onto my scar. Is it really that visible?

"What's-" he begins.

I turn sharply away from him and he falls silent, although I can feel in him staring at my face. He's waiting for me to turn back around, not wanting to force me to tell him the answer, but also just really wanting to know the answer anyway.

"It's from the accident, okay?" I finally say.

"You can get it healed over, you know. It's a non-magic scar, right? You can heal those."

"I don't really want to. It's good to remember when I'm riding on some adrenaline high or something. You know, out in Hogsmeade, with Sirius, flying around, and drag racing. It reminds me that I'm not a god. I've come from murky depths, and I can go back to them."

We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments before he speaks again.

"What's it from?"

"The seat belt. It cut across here-" I make a slicing motion across my torso. "Then it snapped and I went through the windshield. Which is what saved me- I was outside the car when it caught in the fire and the engine exploded."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't say that," I say sharply. "Even I'm not sorry. My family's better off than I am."

"Depends on what you're sorry about, I suppose."

He leans forward and reaches out a hand to very lightly touch the beginning of the scar, excruciatingly gentle. He's avoiding my gaze but I stare at him, his eyebrows slightly creased and lips parted in concentration. His fingers shake slightly as he drags them towards my opposite hip, feeling out the multiple, ropy scars under the thin cloth of my shirt with inexperienced intimacy.

"I'm only sorry that you're left all alone," he tells me quietly, almost whispering.

"You wouldn't know." I move to push him away, then stop when he shakes his head and catches my hand in his. "You wouldn't know what it feels like. You can't possibly know."

"You're wrong. I do know. I'm always alone, in case you haven't noticed."

"It's not the same thing."

"How would you know?" he asks, running his fingers back up so that his hand curls around my shoulder and looking back up at my face. He pulls me very slowly towards him, like he doesn't know he's doing it.

"I don't know, okay, Severus? I'm used to being alone. I'm not used to being..."

"Being close to people?" he finishes. "You force yourself to be alone, but you fall asleep wishing you weren't. And everyday it feels like you're just acting, pretending to be who everyone thinks you are, while you're really just distancing yourself from everything you love?"

"Pretty accurate," I admit reluctantly. He grins with some wry form of triumph, and he tilts his head as he brings his face closer to mine, and all I can think about is that I never expected to be kissing Severus Snape, of all people-

"Merceee? Is that you?" Lily's voice comes from the staircase, and in a second she appears. "Oh," she says, startled. "Am I coming in at the wrong time?"

"No!" I say nervously, springing away, and Severus' face descends into a mortified scowl. "I was- I'm just leaving."

"Hang on, aren't you cold?" Lily calls after me. "Severus, how'd you get in here, anyway? Is that Mercy's sweater?"

I dash out of the porthole only to be confronted by Carter, who is being supported by Remus.

"We've just made our escape," Remus says, breathing slightly labored, because he's considerably shorter than Carter and Carter doesn't look like he can walk well. "Pomfrey's positively livid about the fighting. She nearly killed us. Screaming and waving her wand around dangerously."

"It's the end of the noble and most ancient house of Black for sure," Carter agrees, voice strained. "I don't want to throw up on you again, Remus, where's the bathroom?"

Remus panics, hurrying Carter into the common room. I make my way back to the hospital wing, finding both Sirius and Regulus cowering in the wake Pomfrey's wrath, as she slashes her wand violently, setting the bedspreads of the cots on fire.

"...AND BROTHERS AS WELL! DON'T YOU GIVE ME THAT LOOK SIRIUS BLACK, YOU STUDENTS, ESPECIALLY YOU, WILL BE THEN END OF ME. LET GO OF YOUR BROTHER THIS INSTANT AND GET OUT OF MY SIGHT."

"Yes, ma'am, sorry," Sirius says, ducking his head and dashing out of the room. He grabs my arm and hurries me out of the way. "Let's get out of here, Mere, it's not safe."

Once safely away from the hospital wing, we end up sitting having breakfast with the available deployment of our motley crew. I find myself somehow wearing Sirius' cloak and Lily giving Severus and Sirius the evil eye to stop them from fighting. Apparently Sirius has established his dominance as the best fighter in the time that I wasn't in the hospital wing and is feeling ready to take everyone on.

Slughorn is not present at the table, and neither is Regulus, or Remus and Carter, the latter two of which, Lily informs me, are still in the Gryffindor bathrooms.

Severus eats very slowly and reluctantly, only giving me a mildly scathing look when I steal his bacon, which means something is probably wrong with him. He looks tiny in my oversized sweater, shoulders hunched so far they nearly touch the table. Distractedly, he rubs the corner of his jaw and flicks his hair away from his face, responding only when Sirius lobs a pasty at him.

"No throwing food, Mister Black!" McGonagall warns, rolling her eyes. Sirius sings out his insincere apologies, then turns back to Severus.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" he asks, looking curiously at Severus. "You're quiet."

"I'm always quiet."

"No, you usually throw in some snide remark or another," he argues, then pauses for a moment, then says, rather offhandedly, "It's alright. I didn't like Regulus anyways."

" _Sirius_ ," I scold, "He's your brother!"

"Kings of drama and gossip, the lot of them, those Blacks," Lily says, in a surprisingly good impression of Slughorn, and we all laugh.

Tensions properly diffused, Severus returns to eating bacon and I finish up eating fast enough so that I can get up to talk to Regulus without anyone else around.

"Hi."

"Hello, Mercy," Regulus says glumly, as I enter the wing and sit beside him. "Pomfrey's got me locked up here."

"Well, it is a magic-based injury, you've got to stay in a bit longer," I reason. "Anyway, I've got you some food, if you want it."

He sighs. "You're an angel," he smiles, digging into the food with gusto only paralleled by Sirius. Honestly, Sirius and Regulus have more in common than they'd care to admit. The only difference being that Sirius reacts to being scared of things by openly fighting them, because he's the emotional and passionate dummy he is, and Regulus sort of pretends it's not there and he's not scared until he's a part of whatever scared him, unless he's given some other incentive to fight back.

"He was talking," Regulus tells me, eventually, about Severus, "as if I couldn't be around you. Like I'd hurt you or something."

"So he's been saying."

"Then it's okay to be friends with him, but not me, is that it?" he bursts out, "Even when we have the same friends, and the same loyalties?"

"Severus has Lily."

"And I have you."

"That's not the same."

"How can you possibly know? Mercy, I-"

"Listen, can we not talk about this? Your brother's already being a pain about Felix Edminston, and Severus has been weird, and I like Carter a lot but he acts like he doesn't want me to. There's the thick and thin of it, so can we please just leave the subject alone?"

"Sorry," he mutters, and we move to another subject.

"So Severus tried to kill you."

"I'm not sure. I don't think he meant to, he might've just gotten too heated and used the wrong spell."

"Did _you_ use your wand?"

"Yeah, but he's a better dueler than I am. We more level physically fighting."

"You're telling me that you got hit with a bunch of spells and then decided to take on Severus, who is taller and older-"

"-but weaker than me?" he interrupts, then nods with some sort of pride. "Carter didn't say there was a lot of blood for no reason."

"Stupid," I proclaim for a second time. "All y'all are stupid. Why do you have to get so mad all the time? I thought you were friends, too. Don't you hang out with those goons a lot as well?"

"Kings of drama," Regulus says. "You'll see us called Slytherins, but we should really be called kings of drama. We get offended easily and blow things out of proportion."

I laugh despite myself. "In that case, I don't see why Potter and Sirius aren't in Slytherin as well." He grins, triumphant that he had made me laugh, and sits up stiffly, clearing his throat painfully, looking around and snatching his glass off of the table. He takes a really long gulp of water, watching me as he does so.

"So, what does Edminston look like?" he asks me.

"Blonde."

"Really?" he lifts an eyebrow. "I didn't know you go for blondes."

"I don't really have a preference."

"So, he's blonde, and...?"

"He's quiet, and tall, and smart."

"Well, he's a Ravenclaw."

"His eyes are dark and round, but his eyelashes and eyebrows are pale like his hair," I begin. "You don't really notice them because of his glasses. He's got freckles on his skin like there is an infinity of tiny galaxies etched across his cheeks and splayed across his nose."

"Sounds quite nice."

"He is."

"Nice enough to ask around for you at Slug's party."

"I suppose. Sometimes we study together. He's uncomplicated. It's actually pretty relaxing."

"Well, here," he moves towards the edge of the bed. "Just lie down."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

We both lie there with our arms straight down by our sides, the backs of our hands barely touching.

"And then close your eyes, and _breathe_."

I obey, and very slowly, begin to relax. Regulus intertwines his fingers with mine, palm warm. For a moment it's almost as if we weren't in the hospital wing, but somewhere far, far away. Maybe outside.

"How's this for relaxing?"

"Pretty nice," I admit. Regulus rolls over to face me, and I open my eyes. "This is where is ask you to kiss me," I tease, "but I think I'll hold off this time."

He just smiles and rests his chin on his hand, a bit smug. "And this is where I'll tell you that you're mine, but I think you'd object to being told you belong to someone."

"Point."

"Ah, but Mercy, there are so many people clamoring to get you. I need to get my claim in before they do."

"It's just because I'm different," I say. "My accent, probably. It'll blow over. Lily's already taken by James, so I'm the only one left because you're too scared to approach anyone else."

"We're all different. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Don't downplay yourself, you know people like you."

"And I like people."

He laughs. "Exactly. You're a good person, Mercy. But you're not sweet enough to be caught up too quickly. In fact, you're prickly a lot of the time."

"Only to people I don't know," I protest.

"A _femme fatale_ ," he says, musing. "Dangerous women leads you to dangerous places." And then, much like I had done earlier when talking to Severus, he grins. "I love danger."

I sit up, and so does he. "You're weird," I say. "If I were you, I'd rather go for someone with less faults."

"I wouldn't, because faults can create beautiful things, no matter how broken."

"Alright, alright, enough flirting," I say, laughing when he grins and brings his face close to mine.

"Oh, but that was my masterpiece," he complains. "It's an art you know."

"One I have no interest in appreciating."

"Potter's amateur attempts does tend to put people off of their tastes," Regulus agrees. "But don't pretend that I wasn't doing well just now."

"No, no, you were doing well," I assure him.

"Hold my hand, then," he says, then straight busts out with Jess Glynne's _Hold my Hand_. I laugh in surprise, and I join in after a moment or two. Apparently singing is something both Blacks do.

Pomfrey appears and shakes her head, hiding a smile as she bustles around and Regulus hoists our hands into the air, singing at the top of his lungs.

"Alright, you two, calm down," she says simply, then leaves.

He starts up _Are You Gonna Be My Girl_ by Jet moments later, voice rough, similar to the grit in Sirius' mostly mournful or otherwise excitable and quick enunciation.

"Impressive, I guess," I tease.

"I'm good, just admit."

"You're good," I say, rolling my eyes.

"There we go."

"You're as into singing as Sirius, then?"

He frowns. "My parents don't like it, but he's not ever intending on going back home, so it's alright, I guess. Not for me, for him."

"Oh, but you're good!"

"Nah, I was just teasing."

"Come on," I say. "What can your parents do to you? How about you run away as well? Dumbledore could make sure your parents don't show up at school, and... and you can stay at my house for holidays!"

He looks sorely tempted.

"Come on, Regulus. It'll be fun! They'll never get their hands on you. I never have anyone to hang out with over the summer. We live in Aberdeen- you'll like it there. I'll show you the library- it's really huge."

"Well, I mean..."

"You'd be free!"

"Alright, alright. But if I get in trouble I'm never listening to your dumb ideas again."

"If anyone comes to take you away, I'll personally kill them myself."

"Ooh, Mercy, your Slytherin is showing."

"Anything for you."

"Who's flirting now?"

 **Katica**

"Fine," I mutter to myself. "No one's going to tell me what's going on. Fine!" I march out of the library, away from Remington, and immediately run straight into Charlie Weasley. I'm startled enough to fracture the floor-to-ceiling window a little ways down the hall. I can hear it crackling, threatening to drop out of the frame entirely.

"Are you okay?" he asks me, surprised to see my hand gripping my wand and brandishing it in front of me. I drop my wand, flustered.

"Yeah! I'm fine." I pick my wand up and the only thing I can think the entire time is that he smells like freshly cut grass and dogs and fire.

He leans down so he can see my face from where I'm reaching towards the floor. "Are you sure you're okay?"

The window down the hall shatters with a loud crash, and as his back is turned, I take the opportunity to make my escape.

" _Hey_!" Charlie protests, turning around and following after me as I skitter down the stairs and towards the Slytherin dungeons. He stumbles somewhere at the third flight of stairs and I leap the three remaining steps and hurl myself straight through the hallway and into a nearby closet.

Charlie swears a bit when he can't find me, then leaves. I sigh in relief, but I'm startled when a voice comes from behind me.

"Is that you, Natsworthy?"

"Chancer?" I ask, surprised enough that I don't immediately run out of the closet screaming.

"Why are you hiding in the same closet as I am?" he mutters under his breath.

"Why are you hiding in a closet at all?" I ask back.

There's a shifting and the dull clatter of movement, and Chancer sits on an overturned bucket in front of me, moving until I can very faintly see him through the light coming in through the edges of the door.

From where I stand, we are still eye level, and I can see that his eyes are swollen and his face is all splotchy. "Have you been _crying_?"

"No," he says quickly, and shifts out of the light. We're close enough so that I can hear the hitching raggedness every time his breath fans across the side of my face.

"Liar."

"Who were you running from?" He asks.

"Embarrassment," I say. "What made you cry?"

"Pride."

"What a coincidence we ended up in the same place."

"I don't know if I'd call it that. _You_ made me cry, maybe this is just karma."

"I don't believe in karma. It's just a device created to make sure adults behave. Plus, I didn't damage your pride- it was too big to begin with."

"Yes, you did. Remington has always been the one who convinces people that I'm an okay guy, except this time he didn't. He's gotten all fed up with me, because now he's got you for a friend, and so has everyone else."

On impulse- I regret it later- I lean towards him and hug him. He sort of gasps in surprise, then wraps his own arms right around me. He faintly smells like shower gel and mouthrinse, and where his shoulder and neck meet is the perfect curve for my cheek. It's like a personal space heater- he's got an incredible amount of body heat and broad, all encompassing shoulders.

"Why did you stop Remmy from liking me?" he asks mournfully, upon releasing me.

"What are you talking about? He always tells me you're nice at heart and all that BS."

"That's not true. I'm not nice. I called him a mudblood."

"Is he really muggle born?"

"Yeah." Chancer sighs and pushes me away- the five inches away that I can go. "Well. Get out of my closet."

"I don't really want to. It's nice and dark and no one can see me."

"Well, what happened to you?"

"I don't know, I just ran away and ended up looking stupid."

"It happens."

If an incredibly awkward situation could be weirdly not awkward, this is it. Chancer and I just stay there, like nothing could happen in the dark, because no one can see us and we can't see each other.

"If I tell you something, will you get Remmy to like me again?"

"Something like what?"

"Sirius Black."

"No."

"Fine, fine. We won't talk about it."

We're silent for a long time, I'm not sure how much time passes, but it's got to be at least a quarter of an hour.

"So, farewell, Natsworthy," Chancer stands eventually, and I can hear the bones in his legs crack. "I've got to do my homework."

His legs are pressed straight up against mine, and for the briefest moment, I swear I feel him cup the back of my head and something touches my lips. I breathe in sharply, but before any more can happen, the door flies open, and Chancer, startled, makes a break for it and pushes past whoever it is who's opened the door and vanishes.

I must look to be in real panic, because Charlie Weasley, who'd opened the door, looks seriously concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asks, aghast, looking down the hall. "Who was that?"

"I'm fine," I say awkwardly, face turning fiery red, and a second later the entire closet bursts into flames. Charlie yanks me out and directs a jet of mist towards the fire, eventually putting it out.

"Wasn't it you that set Gryffindor tower on fire last year?" he asks, amused.

I bite my lip and look to see whether or not I can follow Chancer and run, but Charlie shakes his head to deter me, grabbing a very firm hold of my hand. "Want to come outside with me?"

Before I have time to answer, he starts walking, and I have no choice but to follow him.

"Yeah," he says, more to himself. "Let's get out of here."

I follow him out of the castle and towards the gamekeeper's cabin.

"Hagrid's out for the week," he tells me nonchalantly. "I've just been in looking after things. Fang's out in the forest, so it shouldn't be too crazy inside."

The cabin is small, but cozy, and Charlie immediately sits me down and makes tea, almost reflexively pouring cups for the two of us and drawing up the fire.

"So," he says. "What's going on?"

"I don't know. I wish someone would tell me everything."

"Well, then, what parts do you know is going on?"

"Sometimes Chancer is a jerk and sometimes he's not, and it's confusing, Remington gets mad at Chancer every time he mentions Sirius Black in front of me, but he won't say why, Lachlan's been all closed up because of his family, something's really wrong with Mac, and I keep breaking things and setting things on fire."

Charlie nods throughout all of this, the ever long suffering second oldest brother. "And?"

"What?"

"And why is Chancer a jerk? Why do you keep breaking things? What's happening to Mac? Why is Lachlan upset with his family? You know all that as well, you're just not telling me."

"I..."

"How did you set the closet on fire when your wand isn't even with you?"

"What?" I pat my pockets and then begin to panic, feeling behind my ear, up my sleeve, then casting around to see if I dropped it. "Where's my wand?"

"That guy took it. Who was that? Was it Chancer? It looked like it. What were you doing in a closet with him, anyway?"

"Nothing."

"Honey, you didn't have your wand and you set the closet on fire. I don't think that's nothing. Plus, you shouldn't go cavorting around with people in closets!"

"Well... It's none of your business, anyway."

"Katica," he sighs. "Can I help you or not?"

"I think it's none of your business. Thanks for the tea and all, but I've got to go. It's Saturday and Percy and Oliver are probably looking for me-"

"Listen, kid," Charlie says bluntly. "You like me, don't you?"

" _What?"_

"Bill gave me this, before he left last year." He reaches into his bag and produces a notebook. Like, the _Commentariolus._ Exactly the same notebook.

"You have the _Tare_?" I ask, aghast. My face begins to turn red, and I hope I don't set something else on fire. The cup in my hand begins to rattle ominously, and I clench it tighter to stop it from moving. "Is _that_ how Bill knew about Remington?"

Charlie ignores this. "You won't write it down, but there's something you and Percy and Oliver keep talking about. What is it? You're a pyromaniac?"

"No."

"You... are really You Know Who reincarnated?"

"No!" I laugh, and he smiles a bit as well.

"You can tell me," he says gently. "I swear, I won't tell."

I shake my head. "I've got to go."

"Katica!"

"I can't use my wand, okay?" I snap at him. "It hates me. So I can still do wandless magic, and the only thing I'm good at is Transfiguration."

"Aha," he says. "See. That wasn't hard. Sit back down, Kat. My brother can wait."

I sit back down.

"It's not a bad thing," he says slowly. "It doesn't mean you're a squib, if that's what you're afraid of. You might just be a bit slow in getting the hang of your wand."

"It's been three years."

"Some people need more time. Does Dumbledore know?"

"I don't know. Snape definitely knows. I set him on fire on accident."

Charlie smothers a laugh. "That must've been horrifying. Bloody _hell_. You set _Snape_ on fire?!"

"Yeah," I admit glumly.

"Hey, do you have plans for Hogsmeade this week?" he asks abruptly.

"No."

"Good. You can go with me."

" _What_?"

"Unleeeess," he says, looking straight at me, and giving me a look that says he knows I'm not about to refuse, "you don't want to."

"Oh! No, no, I'd love to go."

"That's what I thought. I'll get you butterbeer, if you want. You'd better get your wand back by then, though."

"Yes, sir."

He grins. "Good girl," he says, then adds, "You know, I'm not really good with people, so sorry if I'm a bit weird."

"Oh, no problem."

"I like animals better than humans."

"Understandable."

"Well, nice chatting with you, Kat."

"Yeah."

"Percy's probably in the library."

"I know."

I scurry away, and very faintly hear Charlie say, "That wasn't so bad, talking to a girl, now was it, Charles? No, not bad. Sort of like talking to a dragon."

I'm headed up the the library, praying I don't run into anymore people I don't want to talk to, but the world seems against me, because right before I get in to the library, Snape flags me down.

"Miss Natsworthy!"

I keep walking, hoping he'll think I didn't hear him, but he appears in the hallway and glowers down at me.

"I don't want to have to say your name twice, Natsworthy. I'd like to have a word with you, up in the headmaster's office."

"Yes, sir," I say reluctantly.

Dumbledore is waiting for us, and smiles warmly as we enter. "Hello, Katica."

"Professor," I nod awkwardly.

"Sit down, my dear. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I say, confused as I sit.

"You're crying."

I raise a hand and feel tears track their way down my cheeks. I hadn't realized that I'd been crying, and Snape hadn't said anything either, but if you think about it, Snape wouldn't've said anything whether or not I myself knew I was crying.

"I didn't mean to," I mumble.

"Well, best get down to business, if you're alright from now. I've got a few items. Chief among them, how's your mother?"

"My mother?"

"Yes, I trust her health is improving?"

I look down at my red trainers. "Not really."

Out of the corner of my eye, Snape starts violently. I can't see his face, but I see enough to see that he's almost afraid, which is impossible, because Snape has never showed any emotion that wasn't on the spectrum of mild distaste to complete hatred.

"Ah, but how is that possible? Last I heard she was getting better, I thought?" Dumbledore asks, leaning forward, concern written all over his face, blue eyes dark. He waves towards Snape. "Sit, Severus, sit. Don't be so stoic."

Severus Snape sits heavily beside me.

"Anyway, Katica, please continue."

"The tumors got bigger," I say mechanically. "They're moving in on her lungs, and she may need surgery, before it's too late. But she doesn't want it."

"Well, the surgery should help, should it not?"

"Actually, it's spread all over, par her lungs, so probably not. It'll keep her alive longer, but it won't save her."

Dumbledore frowns, looking grave. "That's solemn news. I'm sorry. Anything I can do, tell your mother, she is free to ask me. Any of my staff, for that matter. I know she left school with bad feelings towards us, but we only have her best interests in mind."

"Thank you."

He surveys my blank expression and sighs. "Second order of business, Katica, your wandless magic is getting out of hand. I had hoped that you'd grow into it and that the incident last year was a mistake, but more than ever I feel that you need extra guidance."

I don't speak, but he reads my expression easily.

"No worries, we won't make it a big event. With a bit of practice, you can get the hang of it quite easily. What wand are you using?"

"My grandmother's."

"Ah. The much coveted thunderbird core, if I'm correct. Your mother used it when she was your age. A tricky wand. Don't let Professor McGonagall get her hands on it, she'll never give it back. Can I see it, do you mind?"

I hesitate. "Actually, sir, someone stole it."

"Well, then you must get it back," he says amiably, instead of getting mad. "Severus, I'm sure, will be more than delighted to begin your extra classes with you at eight every Friday after dinner."

"Severus" decidedly does not look more than delighted to be given the responsibility.

"And for our final, third order of business, Katica, do you mind rolling up your sleeves?"

"I'm sorry, Professor?"

"Your sleeves. I'd also like to inspect your torso, but I'll leave that to Madam Pomfrey."

I stare at him.

"As headmaster, I must look out for my students," he says, "and I'm determined to help you, no matter how much you resist."

Fingers shuddering violently, I fumble the sleeve of my right arm back, revealing the smooth pale underside of my forearm. I turn to him, but Dumbledore gestures of the left sleeve as well. I try to get a hold of my other sleeve, but my hands are shaking so much I can't catch the edge of it.

"I'm sorry!" I cry, leaping out of my chair and tearing out of the room.

"Why didn't you tell me about Mercy?" I hear Snape snap at Dumbledore. "What's under her sleeves?"

"Leave her, Severus," Dumbledore says candidly, and I flee down the hallway.

Nevertheless, Snape follows me with wide, quick strides, and I dart down a hallway in the hopes of dodging him, only to be faced with Peeves.

"Not now," I say, irritated, hurling myself down the hall. Peeves cackles and showers me in ink before zipping off at the sight of Snape.

"Natsworthy!" he snaps, striding towards me. "You do not just run away from the headmaster, you understand?"

"Y-yes, sir," I say, more terrified than I've been in my life, holding my arms tight behind my back. He frowns down at me, like he's not quite sure why I look so afraid, and snatches my left hand.

"No!" I protest, struggling away, but his grip is so tight I nearly twist my wrist all the way around.

"Natsworthy, stop struggling," he snaps. "What are you hiding?"

"Let go of me," I plead, but he just sort of shakes his head.

"HEY!"

Snape quickly let's go of me, stepping away, but a bolt of light flies straight past my ear and slams into him, and he collapses to the ground.

I turn to see Professor Quirrell, wand out and such a look of ferocious paternal indignance on his face that I'm surprised. He looks a bit surprised himself, after the adrenaline wears off.

"Not like Severus to assault someone," he says offhandedly.

"He wasn't," I say sheepishly.

"Really?"

"Really."

"My bad, then. We'd best get out of here before he wakes up, huh." He flashes me a dazzling grin and we flee the scene of crime. "Don't tell him it was me that hit him," he says conspiratorially. "Natsworthy, right?"

"Right."

"You look shaken up. Want any tea?"

"I've just had some, actually."

"Ah, you can never have too much tea," he says dismissively. "Come along."

He makes me tea, and observes me mildly over his cup. "So what _was_ Severus doing?"

"He-he wanted to see my wrist," I stammer.

"Oh?"

"He thinks I wrote the answers to a test on my arm," I invent wildly. "But it was actually just a stupid thing my friend drew and I didn't want him to see."

"Well, as long as you weren't really cheating, it's alright. You seem like a good person, I trust you. Want a cookie?"

I accept a cookie gratefully, and he smiles. The tin is completely full before I take one.

"I don't get the opportunity to give people cookies," he says. "Although I wish I did. People always forget I exist, but I like people, when it all boils down."

"You're a nice teacher," I say. "You're not as horrible as Snape, so you're not the worst of the worst, either."

He laughs. "Thanks for that, I suppose."

"We like you," I assure him.

"Well, just for that you can have another cookie, then."

I oblige, and after a few minutes of more idle chatter, where he tells me of his plans to go on a trip looking for something or another to do with the Dark Arts over the summer. I leave for the library a short while later, feeling a bit more relaxed than when I had started.

Finally reaching my destination, I sit down between Percy and Oliver with a weary sigh, where they patiently wait for me.

"What happened?" Oliver asks. "We only saw you fighting at lunch, and then you vanished."

"Well first I got into a fight with Remington, then I shattered that window down the hall when Charlie went to talk to me and I ran away, and sort of ducked into a closet, but Chancer happened to be in there, crying, and he stole my wand then ran away when Charlie found me. Charlie went down to Hagrid's cabin and we had tea and talked a bit- apparently Bill had a copy of the Tare, and he gave it to Charlie last year-"

"Hang on, he has a copy?" Oliver interrupts, aghast.

"Bill always pulls things like that," Percy complains. "I knew it was weird when he gave us all that stuff."

"And then I got called up to the headmaster's office," I finish.

Percy falls into awkward silence, but Oliver doesn't notice. I breeze over it, and Percy relaxes a bit. "They wanted to ask about my wandless magic. Guess it's really getting to be a problem, huh?"

"You'll always be great to me, oh great one," Oliver says in mock reverence.

After reading the journal, and writing weird comments to Charlie in the Tare, now that we know he looks through it, Oliver begs off for preparations for Quidditch practice or something like that.

"Hey, Kat?" Percy asks, after a moment of comfortable silence.

"Hm?"

"What else did they ask you, up in the headmaster's office?"

I turn sharply to look at him. "What do you know about it?"

"I asked Dumbledore to ask you. I sit to your right in Potions, you know... and I saw the inside of your left wrist when we were weighing things a week ago."

I feel slightly betrayed. "It's nothing."

Percy suddenly looks very, very angry. "You call this nothing?" he snaps, yanking my sleeve away from my wrist and slamming my arm down on the table with a loud bang, so loud and sudden that the entire window behind me blows out and the table bursts into flames.

And there it is, for everyone to see. The thin crisscross of whitish scars that lace my forearm. Some of them scratches, others deeper, and all of them made by me.

I snatch my arm back. "Percy!" I hiss, scrambling to put out the fire.

"That's not nothing, Kat!" He helps me extinguish it, then looks up to make sure Pince hasn't noticed.

"It has nothing to do with you!" I protest.

"Yes it does!" he snaps. "It's been bothering me for days!"

"Well, sorry to tell you, Percy, you're a bit late to the party, because it's been bothering me for months!"

"Why?" he asks, grabbing both my hands. "Katica, what are you doing to yourself?"

"This has nothing to do with you," I snarl, more vicious than anticipated. Percy looks hurt, his hold on my hands loosening. "Why don't you go back to kissing up to Clearwater?"

His mouth opens and his eyes widen, but I stand abruptly and turn away from him, knowing I've just trespassed into danger.

"Just because you don't like her doesn't mean I can't date her," he protests, standing as well.

"Fine! I don't care! I bet she's loads more interesting than me, scarred as I am. What, does she tell you you're smart? Do you like it when she lies through her teeth to make you happy?"

"Katica, what's wrong? I didn't know you were this upset, if we knew-"

"Leave me alone!"

"Katica!"

He chases me through the bookshelves and out of the library. The broken glass from the window I broke crunches beneath the soles of my shoes and I skate over them, wanting to get away, to escape the mess.

"Katica, please-" He reaches out, grabs my shoulder, and spins me around to face him. "Why are you always running away? You don't even stop to think about it, anymore!"

"You don't need to understand."

"Come on-"

"It has nothing to do with you," I repeat.

"Yes it does!"

Percy grips me around the shoulders and waist, until I'm closer to him than I've ever been before, then kisses me so hard our teeth clack. Both of our eyes are open, but once he's adjusted his height accordingly, his eyes slide shut and he leans over me, very gently sliding his hand over my shoulder. The frames of his glasses graze along my face. I can see myself reflected dimly in them, and I just look very, very confused.

He gets a hold of my hair and slowly massages my scalp with the pads of his fingers, until I close my eyes as well, feeling uneasy. I can feel him kissing me, and I can hear him breathe, because he's a mouth breather, I just don't want to _see_ him. It'd be weird. I'm rather surprised that he even _knows_ how to kiss, because I certainly don't, until I remember that he's probably kissed Clearwater before and suddenly I lose all taste for it.

I'm not going to lie when I say it didn't feel that bad, but this also trespasses into danger. It feels like base treachery towards Oliver, who always dearly wants to be a part of our trio, and it violates everything I'm currently think about, which includes Charlie Weasley and Edwin Chancer.

I push Percy hard and skitter away, not stopping my running until I reach the Slytherin dungeons, and he doesn't run after me this time. I'm not sure whether I'm happy or sad that I've forced myself to be alone, but by the time I've missed dinner and fallen asleep, all I care about is that I'm in trouble with almost everyone I know.


	9. Chapter 9 - meh

**Mercy**

Regulus sends a letter home right before he leaves school for the summer, but doesn't tell his parents where exactly he's going. We've told Dumbledore, though, and he's totally on board with the whole idea. McGonagall and Slughorn have some sort of bet going, about whether or not Walburga Black will try to track Regulus down, which does nothing to help Regulus' nerves. Once he boards the train home, he sits beside me in the compartment in his Slytherin vest and tie over a pair of jeans, nervously twisting his hands in his lap. It might just be because he isn't in full uniform, but he suddenly looks very small and afraid.

Lily has been coerced into sitting with James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter in the compartment opposite from us, and Severus, Carter, Regulus and I sit altogether. She'd wanted to sit with some other friends, but Sirius had scared them away when they came to look for her- I seriously don't know why they continue to allow us to have silver knives for potions. Although as a fifteen year old, Sirius has honestly become more attractive than scary, with his rebelliously long hair, sharp and generously handsome features, crowned with his wide, dark, sad-eyed resting expression, his wide, delighted and mischievous grin, and his penchant to burst into song at any moment. Hanging out with him is like very reluctantly living in a one-man musical.

"So you're going to spend the summer with Mercy?" Carter asks, intrigued, looking at Regulus. "Where do you live, Mere? I'll visit and bring Severus with me and we can have a party."

"In Aberdeen," I say. "With my Aunt Calliope. And if we're having a party we'll have to get food ourselves. My aunt's usually too busy to cook."

"Not it." Regulus says immediately, and Carter and I follow suit.

"Not it."

"Not it."

"Severus, you're up with the food," I crow, and he rolls his eyes.

"Ah, come on," he complains. "Where am I going to get food?"

"Yeah, really," Carter says. "I'm broke, and so are you, aren't you."

"I didn't have that much allowance to start with, and I had to buy textbooks," Severus explains. "I don't have a job, either. Why don't you make Regulus get it? He has loads of money."

Regulus adds, "We also pooled all that money for Mercy's broom."

"You didn't _have_ to," I say, but glance up affectionately at my broom, where it rests in the luggage rack. "But it's a nice broom, all the same."

"I shouldn't've helped choose it," Carter sighs. "I'm just helping out Gryffindor team, aren't I?"

"We did win the house cup this year," Regulus points out. "So it wasn't that much of a help."

"Alright, well we have the Marauders in our house," I protest. "They keep getting points off. Even with McGonagall!"

"By the way," Carter says, "Did you see Sprout at your mock-con?"

"Stop calling it that! It was a real concert!" I protest. "And yes, I did see her."

"Professor Sprout was there?" Regulus laughs.

"She likes Pink Floyd," I say, shrugging. "And Rage Against the Machine. Actually, she helped us put the song list together. She was really excited about it."

"The more you know," Regulus says, lifting his eyebrow. "No wonder she's so weird."

"I think she has an impeccable taste in music," Carter protests. "80s music? Those are the best of all time."

"Nah, some of the new stuff is pretty great," Regulus shakes his head. "Karmin? Jess Glynne? Green Day? And I quite like the All American Rejects."

"I don't like Green Day," I admit, and he turns to me in horror.

"You don't like Green Day?!" he cries, aghast.

"No."

"Mercy!"

"I don't!"

"You don't? How is that possible! You can't like music and not like Green Day!"

"I can do whatever I want, thank you very much," I say, crossing my arms indignantly.

"But Mercy!"

"'But Mercy' nothing! I don't like them!" I insist.

"Oh God, Mercy," he groans, shaking his head, "why am I friends with you? Green Day is like the staple punk rock band."

"No, they're not! Blink-182 is much better!"

"Merlin," he says, dragging his hands down under his eyes and making a face. "You disgust me."

"So you don't like Blink-182?"

"Not as much as Green Day."

"Why?!"

"Did you see Edminston at the mock-con?" Carter intervenes, forever the moderator, before Regulus can answer, correctly fearing that we are about to fight.

I turn to him after glaring at Regulus. "Yeah."

"He's going to get you sooner or later," he predicts. "I don't even need to read your tea leaves to know that."

I shrug. "Well, I'm not protesting, am I?"

"I knew it."

"Well, duh, you know I like him," I roll my eyes. "What else do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know. You like other people as well, maybe you'll end up with someone else."

"I like everyone, I'm not going to end up with all of them."

"Point, but he likes you back."

"What do you mean? A lot of people like me back!"

Carter makes a face and I throw my wand at him. "Hey!" he snatches up my wand. "But now you're unarmed." He launches himself towards me and I yelp and roll out of the way, only to crash into Regulus, and sooner or later we get rolled up into a fight, Severus sitting in the corner rolling his eyes and trying not to get accidentally punched in the process.

"That's unfair," I pant, sprawled on the bench, wrenching my hair from Carter's grip. "You don't have enough hair to pull."

"On the contrary," Regulus says, "If you look at it, Carter's hair is the same length as Severus'."

"But he ties it up."

"Well, you can tie your hair up as well."

"It'd still be long if I tied it up!"

"Anyway, Mere, I'll owl you if I decide to come over," Carter laughs, adjusting his robes. "I don't live too far from Sev, so I may be able to force him to come with me."

"Oh, please do. My aunt loves having people over. Our house is too big for two people."

We pull up at the station some time around eight, and Carter and Severus say their goodbyes as they go to find their families. Regulus sticks close by me, in case his family is here, looking over and finally spotting them.

"Over there," he mutters to me, and I glance over to see Orion and Walburga Black standing coldly next to the opposite pillar. They say something to each other, then apparate away, leaving their house elf to wait for Sirius and Regulus. "It's Kreacher," Regulus groans. "I feel bad, leaving him by himself. It can't be helped, but all the same, I-"

I very firmly grasp his arm and pull him over to where Sirius is sneaking away in a huge arch around Kreacher.

"Regulus!" Sirius hisses, as James, Remus, and Peter all block Kreacher's potential view of him. "What are you doing?"

"Coming with me," I say, and Sirius looks surprised.

"Well," he says, blinking a couple times. "I didn't know."

"Mercy!"

My aunt comes striding towards us, in full aunt-mode, wearing her tan trench coat, thick black boots, her hair falling past her shoulders in perfectly colored dirty blonde waves. Regulus looks at her in some awe. She grins, dark eyes sparkling and quick to make you feel welcome. She reaches out her left hand, and Regulus shakes it. Regulus _is_ left handed, I remember, which is possibly why he kept dropping his wand when Sirius sprained his left wrist this spring.

"You must be Regulus," Aunt Callie says, noting my arm linked around his, grin widening.

"My house elf's over there," he says quickly. "Can we just get to your car as fast as we can right now?"

"Sure." Aunt Calliope hands me the keys. "I parked it in front. I'll get your trunks."

We hurry towards the parking lot, the Marauders following.

"Damn, Mercy, your aunt's hot," Sirius says, and Remus smacks him. "Ow!"

"There are my parents," James says. "We should go, Padfoot. Bye, Moony, Wormtail."

"See you guys."

"Bye, James. Bye, Sirius."

"We'll get him to use our nicknames yet," James hollers, concerning Remus, before propelling Sirius as fast as he can towards his parents.

"Let's go," Regulus says, uneasily looking over to where Kreacher is inspecting everyone coming off of the train.

"Bye," I say, to Remus and Peter, and then the two of us dash to the car. Aunt Callie's car defines cool- she's worked on it herself, waxed and jet black, lying close to the ground with butter-colored leather seats. I unlock the door, and Regulus and I dive into the backseat in relief.

Aunt Calliope appears seconds later, drops our things into the trunk, and then starts the car and yanks it out of the station. Regulus isn't used to her driving, and he grips the side of the door, knuckles white. He looks at me, and I grin widely at him.

"Hi," Callie says, beaming at Regulus through the rearview. "I'm Calliope Smith. Technically Mere's first cousin once removed, but you can just say I'm her aunt."

"Regulus Black. Thanks for letting me stay over."

"No problem. I've heard _loads_ about you. Mercy quite likes you, don't you, Mere?"

" _Aunt Callie_ ," I complain, and she laughs.

"He's going to live with us, Mere, better get used to it."

Our house is a blue, small, but elaborately decorated Victorian house, and when we park in the street in front of it, Regulus' eyes just glaze over it- which is what is supposed to happen. I take his hand and bring him straight up the stairs. The cat sits on the front porch, a crabby grey cat that regards us out of one eye as we pass, then goes back to sleep.

"That's Mercury," I say. "She's a jerk. Welcome home."

Regulus smiles, eyes clearing at my words, as we enter the house. "Number seven Carlton Place," he muses.

"They can't see us here. This street only has evens," I explain. "It's hidden unless you tell someone it's there. Even if you see someone walk inside. If I hadn't welcomed you in, you wouldn't know where you were."

"Nifty spellwork."

"Aunt Callie did it. She was in Defense and Military when she lived in America."

Callie levitates the trunks into the house. "I'm afraid it isn't a mansion," she says. "Anyways, come up- we have two guest rooms. You can choose one."

We walk up the stairs, which creak a bit and are covered with a bare carpet. The walls have been papered in blank news print- Callie likes to write things down as she's thinking about them, so her scribbles fill the walls. When one wall is covered, she'll just roll another layer over it and start again.

Regulus chooses the smaller guest room that's right beside my room, and Callie leaves to make dinner. "How do you write on these?" he asks me, hands on the wall. "Doesn't the ink run down the paper?"

I rummage around the desk in the corner and produce a pen, one of the fancier ones we own- a smooth, thin, black number with gold around the seams. "You could use a pencil. Or a ballpoint pen. It's a Muggle invention, but look-" I write my name on the wall. "You don't have to dip it into ink or anything. The ink's inside."

Regulus takes the pen from me and writes his name beside mine, handwriting clumsy. "Why don't we use this instead of quills?"

"Because it's made by Muggles, I suppose. You guys are pretty hard headed."

He shrugs. "It's pretty handy." Then he swoops the pen across the entire wall and looks satisfied at the line he makes.

"It goes all the way into the bathroom," I say, gesturing to the small bathroom that's built off of the room. "You can write whatever you want."

We walk out into the hallway, where I point out the bathroom, then downstairs where I show him the living room, with the TV, which he's thrilled by, and the kitchen and dining room.

"The library, too," Callie calls, from the stove. "Don't forget to show him that."

In the basement, which has a door hidden behind the wall in the pantry, has been converted by Callie and I into a library. There's an entire shelf for Callie's journals, but there are entire walls for fantasy, and a good sized history and astronomy section.

"You must like to read," he comments. "It's much cozier than the library at my house. It's all about the Dark Arts, over there, as well."

"Well, this is your house now," I say, and he grins, unexpectedly throwing his arms around me.

"Thanks," he says, voice muffled.

"No problem. It'll be fun. Are- are you _crying_?"

Regulus' stay at my house consisted of: him playing Green Day loud enough that I can hear it through the wall, until I go over and tell him to shut up, us reading, Callie making us do her lawn work for her, playing paper Quidditch and soccer in the back yard, avoiding summer homework as much as possible, and very generally just fooling around.

Carter owls me and then appears the next day at my house with a very disgruntled looking Severus with him, both of them holding shopping bags filled with food. Delighted, Callie gives us basically free reign of the house, even letting Carter- who is the tallest out of all of us- drive her precious car. We nearly die, but the car is alright, and so are we, so it was fun rather than a life threatening experience. By the end of the day we're all sprawled out in the backyard, scrounging up the last remains of the food Carter and Severus had bought. We're playing Beethoven, which is rather fun.

"We've had quite a few nice days."

"Ice skates? I quite like skating although I like sledding better."

"We're getting weather? The sky looks pretty clear to me."

"Two bees? I'm quite allergic, you know."

"Through snow? I thought you said the sky was clear, Regulus."

"Nothing rhymes with Regulus, Carter," Severus complains.

"A pegasus? Where?" I interrupt, and everyone laughs.

"A fair? I'd love to go with you."

"The fifth stew? I didn't know Aunt Callie liked cooking stew."

"Looking for you? I'm right here."

"Light years? I-"

"YOU HESITATED!" Regulus crows.

"Aw, come on, what is there to say about light years?"

"What even is a light year?"

"The distance light travels in a year."

"Light doesn't travel," Regulus protests.

"Yes, it does."

"No, it doesn't."

"Light is just light."

"Actually," Severus interrupts, "light travels to your eye so you can see. Which is why you can't see in the dark."

"I knew that," Regulus blurts out.

"Well, that's an obvious lie!" I say hotly, and he laughs.

"You still lose."

"Well, you didn't know what a light year was."

"So?"

"Should we head back in?" Carter asks. "It's getting dark."

"Oh! Do you need to leave?"

"No, I told my parents I was staying the night."

"You WHAT?" Severus asks, sitting up.

"Don't worry, I told your parents as well."

Severus stammers, eyes wide with surprise. "But- but how'd you get them to agree?"

"Well, I'm very persuasive when I have to be," Carter says smugly.

"Which means you lie a lot."

"No!"

"Yeah you did, don't lie more."

"What'd you tell them?"

"That you were studying."

"It's the summer!"

"I know, that's why they were extra happy. They were happy you had friends, as well."

"I still don't understand how you did it," he mumbles, sinking back onto the grass.

 **Katica**

"Katica-"

"Katica!"

"Katicaaaaa."

"Hester!"

I ignore Mac as she waves something in my face, and stab my pancakes with more force than necessary. From somewhere nearby I hear a glass shatter and dearly hope it's not Snape's. I woke up in a foul mood and left the Slytherin dungeons really early, so now I'm feeling the ill effects of getting up at three in the morning.

"Hey, dummy."

"Morning, Kitty."

I look up, and away from Mac and Lachlan trying to get my attention, see Chancer and Remington approach, each trying to greet me without acknowledging the other.

"Hi," I say, to all of them, stifling a yawn.

"What's wrong with you?" Mac asks me, curious. "Are you sick?" She reaches out to touch my forehead and her glass of pumpkin juice explodes. "Merlin! Hesterrrr, you could've stabbed me with these," she complains, holding up the shards of her broken cup. "Stop doing that!"

Chancer and Remington sit on my left and right, creating an instantly awkward situation. I hunch my shoulders and try to move away from both of them at the same time.

"Sorry about yesterday," Remington says.

"It's alright."

"Are you okay? You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine," I say, glancing across the room. I can feel it- Percy's been staring at me, and when I look up, he lifts his eyebrows, as if asking me something. I glare back at him and move left a bit so that I can't make eye contact with him.

"Hogsmeade trip today," Chancer says, and I turn to him. He hands me my wand, and I take it from him, looking at his face for any sign of guilt. I don't find any. Instead, he smiles, but you can't really trust someone like Chancer, can you. "I thought it was mine, yesterday. Sorry. I just grabbed it before I ran out."

"Thanks."

"Sorry that that Weasley had to interrupt us yesterday," he says, and from across the table Mac's intrigue deepens, triggering her deeply rooted instincts for gossip. I can see it written across her face- she wants to ask me what I was doing with Chancer, but she knows Lachlan will probably stop her from asking because he knows I won't know how to answer.

Mac doesn't look too good herself- she's sort of greenish and thinner than she's been all the three years I've known her, despite the fact that she eats more than a hippogriff at every meal and likes to run in the hallways so she can leap on people (mainly me and Lachlan).

"So," Lachlan says, "how are you this fine and lovely morning, her grumpy highness Katica?"

I have to laugh, and he looks pleased with himself. Lachlan is in Slytherin because he does anything he can to achieve his means, but his means are not usually in the interests of his self preservation. He does embarrassing things to get people to laugh, mostly, but he'd lie and kill and steal and eventually kill himself if that meant people would be happy.

"I'm doing well. You?" I ask, as cheerfully as I can, and there's a visible exhale among us- we're back into the usual habit of things, with the only exception being that Chancer and Remington are ignoring each other.

"Got plans for Hogsmeade?" Lachlan asks.

"Yeah, actually."

"Oh, with whom?" Mac asks, and Lachlan rolls his eyes at her eagerness.

"Charlie Weasley."

"That seventh year you've been- mmph!"

Lachlan claps his hand over her mouth. "Have fun," he says, loudly, and Mac glares at him.

"Stop _doing_ that," she complains, freeing herself.

"Not until you become tactful," Lachlan refuses, "which means never in a million years."

"I'm tactful when I need to be," she protests.

"Only when you're in trouble," he points out. "And by tactful, you mean you lie through your teeth."

"Well, that's what tact is, isn't it? We're all liars. Lying is like conducting and composing a symphony, and I consider myself the ultimate maestro."

He rolls his eyes again as Mac reaches over and finishes my pancakes for me, and in a few more minutes I get up and leave for Hogsmeade. At the main entryway, I wrap my scarf around my neck and shove my hands in my pockets as Filch checks my name off of the list and let's me by.

"Katica!" Oliver calls cheerfully, waving. His words come out as breath crystallized in front of him, and his cheeks are pink from cold. He and Percy are standing waiting for me, Percy who is staring at his boots, looks up and right at me, but I ignore them and march straight past, towards Charlie, who's also waiting for me a farther along the path.

"What happened?" I hear Oliver ask, as I pass, mystified. "I don't understand girls."

"Got your wand?" Charlie asks, and I show it to him. "Good. It's pretty cold, and if we get drinks early there won't be as much of a crowd. Let's go."

We walk towards Hogsmeade, and very casually but conspicuously, Charlie slides his arm through mine. I'm momentarily thankful that he's not as giantly tall as Percy is, then I frown because I'm thinking about Percy and how he had to lean down to kiss me.

We get a butterbeer and a fire whisky at the three broomsticks, and then make our way to the clearing that overlooks the Shrieking Shack, which is blocked off from the main road by a dark cluster of trees.

"Don't let Percy bug you," he says unexpectedly.

"What?"

"You haven't been reading your precious Tare?"

"No."

"I don't know what he did, he wouldn't say, but he likes you, so don't let it bother you."

"I know."

"What _did_ he do?"

"Nothing. A lot of things. I don't know what I'm most offended about."

"Ah, well he's a pompous brat, even at home. He doesn't like being the third born- virtually the middle child."

"I know. He complains about it a lot."

Charlie shrugs and sips his fire whisky. "We ready to start? Alright- wands out."

 **Short chapter, I'm lazy ';)**


	10. Chapter 10 again

**Katica**

Charlie guides me through Charms- which is my most dreaded subject. Apparently he's quite good at it. I manage not to break things this time, mostly because there isn't really anything to break out here.

"Tired?" he asks, and I nod. "Good. Let's keep going. Cheering charm. Chin up, you can do it."

We continue on, but my wand isn't cooperating and keeps sparking cantankerous instead of obeying. At some point, Charlie sits me down and hands me my mug of butterbeer, except it's not butter beer, it's fire whisky.

I cough violently, not expecting the burn that sears my stomach, and then feel the heat shoot through me, a very faint light buzz begins to spread at the top of my head. I take another sip, but Charlie takes it away from me and chugs down the rest, a fierce grin spreading across his face.

"Better?"

By the end of the day, I'm exhausted, but exhilarated, and Charlie laughs and throws a snowball at me. I throw one back, and suddenly there's a barrage of snowballs flying back and forth between us. I've sort of got snowballs making themselves beside me, and I just throw them one after another, as fast as they're made.

"Okay, okay, stop!" Charlie protests, and I stop. He takes this opportunity to lunge at me and smash the biggest snowball I've ever seen straight onto my head.

"GAH!" I fall back onto the ground, then clear my vision of snow and launch myself at him. "That was a cheap trick, Weasley!"

"But it worked," he laughs, similarly falling to the ground as I barrel into him and throw a snowball point blank at his face.

We collapse onto the ground, and I shake the snow from my hair, spraying him with flecks of snow. Charlie slouches and rests against the seat of the bench, then sighs, leaning his head against my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, but I think I fell in love with you today," he says, after a moment, the words rushing from him. I sort of just blink at him, and he flushes. "I'm sorry. Was that too direct? I told you I'm not good at talking to people. Fuck, I'm sorry. Is this weird?"

"No."

"No?"

"It's alright." If I could just put the butterflies aside, get rid of my stupid crush, maybe gorge out my eyes so I couldn't see how much I like Charlie, if you strip it all down to an emotionless structure of reason, I'd be interested to see Percy's reaction to all of this. Just out of sheer spite, I think I'd do pretty much anything. Which maybe is why I'm in Slytherin, or which is maybe why I'm a jerk.

He looks away, ears turning bright red. "I mean, I liked you at first. But it's not the same as falling in love. It's different. It's easy to fall in love with someone when they're in love with you first."

"I know."

"You don't mind?" he asks awkwardly.

I shrug. "Do I look like I mind?"

"Not really."

"Well, I don't mind."

"Good." He shifts a bit, so that he can rest his chin in his hands. Then he looks at me. "You want to do the thing?"

"What thing?"

"The holding hands thing? The thing? Merlin, I messed that up. Wait, wait, I can do it." He takes a deep breath, and then blurts out, "You wanna fucking date me or something?"

"Yes," I say, simply.

"Really?"

"Really," I assure him, then start laughing. "You're so awkward."

"Sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize."

"Sorry."

We look at each other, and then start laughing again.

We walk back through to the main road, and as we do, Charlie reaches down and laces his fingers through mine, callouses rubbing against the inside of my palm. About halfway back to the castle, we pass Percy and Oliver, but Charlie doesn't notice because, he's turned away from me so he can point out constellations that hover over the snowy ground.

Oliver sort of looks at us eyes wide, and Percy glares at me.

"It's pretty cool, huh, how they all have stories," Charlie says to me.

"You could make up your own stories," I say. "I used to. There are enough stars for everyone."

We walk on in silence, Charlie very conspicuously putting an arm around my shoulders, even if he's trying not to be conspicuous. At some point, from beside me, Percy sticks out a foot and I pitch forward.

"Percy!" I very faintly hear Oliver scold, but in a split second, Charlie catches me and rights me.

"You alright?"

"Of course."

Very, very, quickly, he kisses me, and my eyes go wide, then look over at Percy, who's scowling, and I swear to you that this is the most triumphant feeling I have ever experienced in my life. As quickly as he had kissed me, Charlie pulls away.

"You're cute," he says.

"I'm short, not cute."

"Well, maybe you aren't. I just meant that I like you."

"I know that, stupid. I like you too."

We continue to walk, and in a few moments Charlie notices Percy and Oliver, staring at us. "Hello," he says, momentarily letting go of my hand, as if he was contemplating being embarrassed, then taking it back and gripping it tighter.

"H-hi," Oliver says, and Percy doesn't say anything at all. "We waited for you at the entrance, I didn't know you had... um, a date? Didn't you see us?"

"No," I lie, even though I literally made eye contact with Percy when I left the building. "Sorry."

"It's alright," Oliver says easily. "I thought you were mad at us."

"Me? Why would I be mad at you?"

Percy glares at me suspiciously.

"Because Percy said you were," Oliver informs me.

"I'm not mad at you, Olly," I say, subtly putting the accent on 'you'.

"That's good." He falls into step with us, and grins. "So, Kat, you managed to end up with Charlie, huh. How'd you get the courage to ask him?"

"Actually, I asked her," Charlie says, sheepishly.

"Oh! Really?"

"Really."

"Whoa, I guess I owe you eight sickles, Perce-," Oliver says, grinning, then looks beside him. "Wait, where's Percy?"

We look up ahead, where Percy's running straight to the castle, barging through people and lowering his head so no one can see his face.

"Percy? Percy!" Charlie calls, and then takes off after his brother. Oliver and I hang back, not wanting to be involved in whatever is about to go on between them.

"So you got Charlie to fall in love with you," Oliver comments. "Nice job."

"I didn't do anything," I admit.

"I can believe that."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

"What's wrong with Percy?"

"Clearwater got mad at him because she saw him kissing someone else in front of the library. Did you see who it was?" he asks, eager for information. "You were still in the library with him after I left."

"No," I lie.

"She's really mad at him, but he's been trying to convince her that it wasn't him."

"There aren't that many other redheads like him," I laugh.

"I know, that's why he's so screwed. I'll be glad when he breaks it off with her. Honestly, I think she hates us. Do you really think he kissed someone else?"

"If he's feeling especially dumb that day," I shrug, and he laughs.

"I know. Lately Percy's been really stupid. When he's not studying or writing in the Tare- which he's been doing a lot lately, by the way, have you been reading the entries?"

"No."

"Anyway, when he's not doing all that junk he's just been staring at things and doing absolutely stupid things. Do you know, he half fell asleep and nearly fell into the fireplace yesterday! And then at lunch at the Three Broomsticks today he wasn't looking at what he was doing and just straight poured his pumpkin juice on me! He's thinking about something, and it keeps distracting him from being himself. And I don't know what it is. He may have written it down, do you have the Tare with you?"

"Yeah, it's in my bag. I don't want people to get it, so I carry it with me everywhere."

"Should we read it now, before he gets back?"

"Do you think he's coming back?" I ask doubtfully.

"No. We can walk up to the library and read it then, I guess, and we can read it there," he decides. "I just don't know what's wrong with him. You think Clearwater is bothering him? Maybe he's really cheating on her!"

"Maybe."

"You're awfully quiet. Still star struck by Charlie?"

"I wrote things down in the Tare about him," I say. "And you guys kept making fun of me for it, remember? You think he read that?"

"That sappy stuff? We did make fun of you. But that was 'cause we didn't really know what else to say. I mean, I knew you were a romantic, but I didn't know you'd go for people like Charlie. He probably likes it. He doesn't have many human friends, does he?"

"Well, at least he's smart enough to stay mostly away from humans."

We reach the castle, and there's no sign of either Weasley, so we continue on into the library, where we sit at our usual table and crack open the Tare. I have to flip a few pages back from the most current entry, until I reach the picture of Percy and Oliver arguing that I took a week ago.

We speed through all of my current plans to blow up the Ministry of Magic and Oliver psyching himself out for the Quidditch match, focusing more on Percy's handwriting.

"Looks like Clearwater really is bothering him," Oliver comments, reading a section in which Percy complains that Clearwater has been nagging him about not spending more time with her.

"That's just how she is. Look-" I say, pointing at the tiny letters " _PW_ " and " _PC_ " at the top of the page. "He's okay with her at this date, here."

"Yeah, but then look," Oliver says. "What does this mean?"

 _Katica, what's wrong?_

"I don't know," I lie, and we look over the rest of the page, only to see a few more carefully scripted comments from Percy.

 _Katica, what are you doing to yourself?_

Are you reading these?

 _Katica?_

"What's he talking about?" Oliver asks me, putting his hand down on the page so I can't keep staring at it. "Katica?"

"I don't know," I lie again. "When did he write these?"

"Four days ago. What were we doing four days ago?"

"Nothing special, right?" I ask, contracting my eyebrows in mock concentration, the deception rolling easily off of my tongue. Lying is easier than I'd ever thought it would be, a fluid medium rife with opportunities to paint a facade of yourself so that no one can see you.

"I don't think so." He lifts his eyebrows and shrugs. "I wonder what he's talking about. Here. How about the next page?"

We turn to the next page, which is completely Percy's handwriting. I hadn't done any more entries after this day, so the whole three pages after this must just be Percy and Oliver.

 _Katica, I don't know what's happening but you need to tell us._

 _Katica, you have the Tare, why aren't you reading these?!_

 _How else do I get your attention?_

 _Listen, if I saw what I think I did, you shouldn't be cutting yourself, okay? I don't know why or how you can do this to yourself, but you just need to stop. STOP, Katica. I never thought that this was something you would do, and I have no idea what drove you to do it, but if you're not telling anyone what's wrong, no one can help you. Olly and I are your friends, alright? Maybe we don't get to hang out as much, maybe you think that Remington or Mac and Lachlan are better friends, but I wish you'd just tell us what's wrong._

 _Is it Clearwater? Does she bother you that much? I know you and Oliver don't like her, but there's something about her that makes me feel important. Of course, you guys make me feel important as well, and I don't have any friends besides you two, so if you really hate her that much, I'll call it off, but you need to tell me. You never tell me anything, how am I supposed to do what you want me to? Am I supposed to be able to read your mind?!_

 _What's wrong, Kat? Is Chancer bullying you, is it about your mother, is it your wandless magic, is it something you never told us about? Just TELL US, Katica, for God's sake._

And then, a few days later, he writes again.

 _Are you IGNORING me? Katica, I'm on the verge of setting Oliver on you._

 _I'm sorry I did that thing yesterday, are you going to come to Hogsmeade with us? Olly's driving me insane._

 _Katica why aren't you talking to me?_

After we skip Oliver's scribbled, nonsensical, scattered Quidditch thoughts, we reach another one of Percy's entries, except it's being written as we watch.

 _Charlie..._

 _Go on, suck it up, buttercup._

 _But-_

Percy!

 _Fine! Katica, I'm sorry I sold you out to Dumbledore, but I was really concerned about you, and if you're still mad at me, you shouldn't be, just because I kissed you or whatever, I don't see why you didn't like it-_

PERCY

 _I shouldn't've kissed you when I'm with Clearwater, but I swear, I'll call it quits with her if you want, just let me help you-_

Katica's mine.

 _Says who?_

She's my girlfriend.

 _Yeah but you're not going to be in school next year, you're a seventh year._

So?

 _So you're not going to be dating her then._

I will.

 _Lies!_

I will!

 _You won't!_

Percy, I'm capable of long distance relationships.

 _You're not even capable of normally distanced relationships- OW!_

Katica, it's Charlie, I know you're reading this, I have the other copy, remember? You're open to this exact page, I can see it-

 _Gah, Charlie, stop taking the book away from me._

-what Percy is trying to do is APOLOGIZE, although it seems to be a foreign concept to him-

 _Shut up._

-but now he's aware he shouldn't be going around kissing you and he's also aware that I'M your boyfriend so he'd better stop trying to move in on you when he has a girlfriend already.

 _CHARLIE_

And we're in the Gryffindor common room so it's better if you just come up. You're with Wood, aren't you? We can sort this out like normal people.

 _Merlin, Charlie, don't invite her up!_

"Let's go," Oliver says, standing.

He pulls me up after him, and takes the liberty of very quickly and lightly kissing me chastely on the forehead, "since everyone else seems to be doing it."

We go up to Gryffindor tower and Oliver gives the password so I can walk through. No one is here, since there's still a ways away until the end of dinner. The common room is much warmer and cozier than the Slytherin one, which is just fancy, expensive furniture no one wants to sit in.

Oliver leads up to the boys dormitories and into what I assume is his room. When we enter, I'm sure it's his room, because there's one immaculately made bed with homework neatly stacked on it m, two ordinary messy ones, and one chaotic one with Quidditch posters plastered on the wall above it and one of Oliver's Quidditch jerseys on the floor.

Percy looks apprehensive and Charlie looks grim, making room for me to sit snugly between him and Oliver on the floor beside the fireplace, so we're sitting in a half circle. He looks at Percy, who frowns and looks into the fire.

"So," Oliver says, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Let's have it all out, shall we? Percy goes first."

"Why me?" he protests, but Oliver is adamant, and so we begin. "I like Penelope, and I know none of you do, and you all think I act all pompous, but sometimes I just wish you'd listen to me. Anyways, it was me that kissed Katica in front of the library, but Penny is livid about it, so I've been denying it. And last week in Potions I saw the inside of Kat's left forearm, and I just panicked- I mean, Katica, why-"

"It doesn't matter," I snap.

"Katica," Charlie says gently, "what's on your left forearm? You're not a Death Eater, are you?"

"No," I say, laughing slightly.

"Well, then what is it?" Charlie takes my hand and reaches for my sleeve, and in a moment of trepidation I grab Oliver's arm so hard he yelps. Charlie pulls my sleeve down, and involuntarily, Oliver leans forward, gaping at the nest of white raised scars and dark, discolored scabs.

"Oh, Katica," Charlie says, letting out a hiss through his teeth. "You didn't write about this. You didn't tell anyone about it."

"I did," Percy says, "but that was just yesterday."

"Merlin," Oliver finally manages to breathe, reaching out a hand and feeling my scars gently. "Where did these come from? Did you do this to yourself?"

"Yeah," I say, and just admitting it sends my stomach dropping out from under me, a sinking, panicky feeling overtaking me.

"Why?" Oliver asks, completely bewildered.

"I don't know. It's not a big deal. It feels nice."

"It does?!"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"You're hurting yourself! Doesn't it hurt?"

"I don't know. It feels nice, even if it does hurt. The hurt feels nice, I suppose," I shrug, not knowing what else to say. "You can forget about things with it. I don't know. It's like an escape."

Oliver looks dubious "Not a very nice one."

"You've never done it, you shouldn't be talking," I snap.

"I don't understand! You like it?"

"Sometimes. Other times I just feel miserable about it."

"What are you escaping from?" Charlie interrupts.

"Stuff. You'd think it was stupid."

"No, no, tell us."

"Just... Things. My mother's dying, Chancer has been hitting me hard for anything at all that he can find wrong with me. I can't do magic right. I nearly killed people last year, just because I got upset. Snape is going to give me extra lessons and he's just going to be scary and bat-like the whole time. There's something weird going on with Mac, and I don't know how to help her. I don't know how to help Lachlan, either, even though he's obviously beating himself up over something no one wants to talk about, and he hates his own family because he's always so lonely. Remington knows something that he won't tell me, and he refuses to let anyone tell me, on top of that, and I hate Clearwater because she makes me feel dumb because she's a smartass and she's pretty good looking except for the zits, but no one seems to care about those, and the whole time I wallow around here crying and feeling sorry for my stupid scarred self."

After this outburst, I look around in the silence. Charlie is very gently rubbing my fingers and palms and doesn't look as disturbed as I thought he'd look, although Oliver looks very concerned and Percy is frowning again.

"You didn't tell me your mother was dying," he tells me. "You said she was sick and would get better."

"That's what I thought then."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"But I am."

"I don't want you to be. I don't want you to feel sorry for me."

"No one feels sorry for you," Charlie interrupts. "You are perfectly capable with dealing with all this, you've just fallen into a rut. We can help you out."

"Yeah, do you want me to drop Penny or what?" Percy asks, and Charlie snacks him. "Ow!"

"One thing at a time," Charlie says, ignoring Percy. "First things first, you don't worry about anyone except yourself, alright?"

"But I want to be able to help people."

"You can't help anyone if you can't help yourself."

"I don't care about helping myself!" I snap. "I want to help my mother, and Mac and Lachlan and Remington and Chancer, but I don't know how!"

Charlie shakes his head. "You've got a big heart in you, kid. But you can let other people help you help other people, you know. We want to help you. Let us."

"This isn't pity Katica time," I mutter.

"We're not!" Charlie insists. "If nothing else, if you think Percy or Oliver are pitying you, if you're going to resist us, you'd better know that I fucking love you, and you'd better let me help you, because I'm going to help things get better for my girlfriend Katica Natsworthy whether you want me to or not. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl." He pulls me into a tight hug and I hug him back with a ferocious feeling of gratefulness. "And you two," he says to Percy and Oliver, "you'd better help her too, or I'll kill you."

"No problem."

"Of course."

"Now, apologize, Percy."

"I'm sorry, Katica."

"And you," Charlie says, swinging to face Oliver, who looks faintly alarmed. "You're a good kid."

Oliver smiles, and looks pleased with himself, then slightly embarrassed because he idolizes Charlie as Seeker and Quidditch Captain. I can see the thoughts flying through his eyes and can't help but laugh at him.

"What?" he demands, indignant. "What's so funny?"

 **Mercy**

By fourth year, Regulus has stopped talking to everyone that doesn't deeply immerse themselves in the Dark Arts, save for Carter and me, because we still meet up on Sunday afternoons at the library. He sort of grew his hair out and half of it covers his face like Severus does, except he is much more classically handsome than Severus' narrow eyes and slim jaw that's usually clenched in some form of annoyance. Regulus really hates it, but to me it seems pretty obvious that he's Sirius' brother, the two perfect models of male attractiveness.

On his return from summer vacation, Regulus had been re-immersed with his dark, scary friends, much to my dismay, but he promised to return to my house the next summer. The only thing stopping his parents from complaining that he hadn't been over for the summer is the nature of his friends. As long as he was becoming who they wanted him to, they were okay with him not being home.

"They don't really care," he tells me. "There's never been an emotional thing between us. Not like Aunt Callie and you."

"Oh, well, Callie tries. She's my father's cousin, she feels as bad about the accident as anyone else. Besides. Callie loves you."

"Yeah, she's nice," Carter chips in, looking up from his homework.

I'm sure there's something wrong about Carter- he acts like things are perfectly fine, but then I'll find him hunched over in some abandoned hallway or crying in an empty classroom. He won't tell me why, either. It's infuriatingly worrying, but whenever I ask him about it he pretends like I never spoke in the first place.

I have, on the other hand, begun to sing with Sirius, which is more amusing than anything else, except for when he drags me down to Hogsmeade and we perform to get money and free butterbeers. I've gotten him out of his old fashioned music a bit so that he listens to things that came out within the last twenty years. He's been delighted to discover that I enjoy spitting out verses rapid-fire with Tyler Joseph, and that his voice range fits perfectly with Andy Biersack's.

But, as Remus apparently had bet thirty more Galleons on, I've begun to go out with Felix. I swear, Remus is just making money out of me- and Sirius is very quickly losing money. He spent the summer with the Potters, so it's not as if he needs money, anyway. He's getting to be as spoiled as James is.

Lily's beginning to come around with James- excruciatingly slowly and reluctantly, even though the rest of us just wish they'd _kiss already_. Obviously this has left Severus somewhat more lonely than he's started out, and he's been sour about it for months. He's just starting to come around, which might just be because it's now summer or because I've been bothering him a lot about actually going outside- which he rarely does.

"Listen, Sev," I say, one Saturday in May when we're all outside, as he glares at Potter, who's fooling around with Sirius and flirting shamelessly with Lily. "Don't you ever get tired of working the death rays on Potter?"

"No."

"Oh, come on. You must not want to be that angry all the time."

He looks away, and towards me, as I stare up at the sky, completely relaxed. "I'm not angry," he says calmly. "I just don't like him."

"Right, right." I smile. "Lighten up."

He rolls his eyes. He's only let me persuade him to hang out with me because I'm from America and I don't have an official blood status. He usually has to find time to talk to Lily when the rest of his friends aren't there, because he's afraid that he'll get her in trouble.

"Don't look like that. You're lonely, I'm lonely, maybe being lonely isn't too bad after all," I say.

"You always say that."

"It's true."

He rolls his eyes again and crosses his legs beneath him. "It seems as if every word that comes from your mouth is true."

"Why, thank you, Sev."

Eye roll.

"Oh, relax."

We go back to reading and staring at the sky, and I'm sort of squinting at a cloud shaped like a huge dog when something very lightly touches my shoulder.

I've tossed my cloak aside, but Sirius dyed my shirts a gross orange color in revenge for my releasing of grasshoppers in his school bag, so I've been forced to wear Muggle clothes and not the thick collared shirts the school provides, which means I can very acutely feel it when Severus touches me.

Severus is resting a finger right where my collar bone meets my shoulder, exactly on top of the beginning of my scar. I glance over at him, but he continues to read, smiling slightly but not looking up. An unusually personal gesture on his part, because he doesn't touch people. After a few more moments, he drags his finger lazily across my scar, until his finger rests dead center on my chest. Then he continues on until he reaches my hip. He looks at me and smiles shyly.

I grin back, pulling the book out of his hands and yanking him flat onto the ground beside me. "Ready?"

"For what?"

"For being relaaaxed. Close your eyes."

"But that's stu-"

"No it isn't-"

"But-"

"If Potter comes over I will personally kill him."

He shuts his eyes. I press my palm against his, and he hesitantly curls his fingers around mine. We lie there in complete silence, and for a moment it feels almost as if we're floating.

"How's this for relaxing?"

"It's okay."

"Ah, come on," I say, rolling onto my stomach and leaning my elbow on the grass beside him and my chin in my elbow. "It's was pretty good, I thought."

He opens his eyes. "Maybe," he admits, and then laughs, which is another unusual thing for him, nowadays. "It's just the mood. Outside, sunny, with a good friend and all that stuff."

"I'm your good friend?" I tease, batting my eyelashes. "I'm flattered."

"Don't be," he teases. "I was talking about myself."

"Right." I very carefully place my finger between his eyes, which very nearly cross, and draw it down the bridge of his nose. He shivers a little, pushing my hand away. "Has anybody told you that you've got a ridiculously straight nose?"

"No."

"Ah, it's just because usually you can't see it very well, because of your hair-" I lift a chunk of hair from his face.

"I am not letting you cut it, Mercy Gaffery." He bats my hand away.

"Oh, stop it, Severus, you'll look better."

"No!"

"I don't feel like arguing with you right now. I guess I'm off my game today."

"Or you've decided to be nice for a day?"

"Ha ha."

"Edminston's behind you," Severus says, and I straighten as Felix approaches, tugging uncomfortably at his tie.

"Hi, Mercy, Severus. McGonagall's in a foul mood. She yelled at me because my tie wasn't tied properly."

"We set fanged frisbees and dungbombs off in the hallway in front of her office," I explain, looking over at Sirius, who has a struggling Potter held over the lake, where a few tentacles of the Squid rise out of the water. "And one of the frisbees got into her office. We didn't mean it to, it just happened."

He laughs, and finally manages to get his tie off, pulling it over his head and shoving it into his pocket. "Oh well. What're you getting up to?"

"I need a pair of scissors."

Severus scowls. "No, Mercy!"

"Yes, Severus!"

"No scissors on me, I'm afraid," Felix shrugs.

"Aha! I've got an idea." I yank Severus up into sitting, and he looks at me suspiciously as I scoot to sit behind him. I pull the hair tie off of my wrist, and in a few seconds pull his hair up into a ponytail, like Carter does.

"Pretty good," Felix says diplomatically, and I move to survey my work.

"I like it," I say, as Severus glares at me. "Look Severus, you can see out of both eyes now!"

"Very funny."

"Hey, Mere," Felix says, lying down in the grass. "The last Hogsmeade trip is next week. Want to come with?"

"Whatcha doing?"

"We might go to the bookstore and get butterbeers with Taliesin and Quirinus and a couple other of the guys."

"Sure," I agree amicably. "Want to come, Sev?"

"Well, I don't think-"

"Come on," Felix says. "It'll be nice to have you."

"We're just going to the bookstore like Ravenclaws do," I tease, "even though they've read all the books before."

"Don't objectify me," Felix protests, crossing his arms.

I lean forward and grin. "But you have read all the books, haven't you. Then you eat up the newest shipments. Don't lie, you have."

"Point, but not all of us have."

"You really think so?"

"Well, I'm not _sure_ ," he admits.

"I guess this means I win."

"No it doesn't!"

"I wiiiiin," I sing out.

"No, you haaaaven't," he sings back. "It's an unsure victory. So I win too."

"Nuh uh."

"Well, anyway, the point of it all-" Felix says, turning back to Sev. "Severus, will you come with us? One of the last trips of the year, you know. Might as well spend it with friends worth having."

Sev shrugs, then sighs reluctantly. "I suppose."

"Yes!" Felix and I exchange high fives, and Severus rolls his eyes again. Felix pulls Severus towards him, catching him in his elbow, and twisting his knuckles against the top of Severus' skull, giving him a noogie.

"Gah!" Sev protests, struggling to get free. "That hurts!"

He leaps to his feet and runs off down the side of the lake. Felix and I give chase, Felix repeatedly tripping on the ankles of his oversized, second hand pants and his untied shoelaces. He pauses to tie his shoes, and I tackle Severus, the two of us crashing straight into the lake.

Severus grabs me before I can sink farther way down, dragging me up, gasping for air as he hoists me up to the surface. "Stupid!" Severus pants, readjusting his grip on me. "Do you _want_ to drown?"

"I'm glad you remembered that I can't swim!" I say, laughing.

"Stop laughing, it's making us sink!"

We see Felix as he stands there laughing as well. "You can't swim, can you?" he hollers to me, not moving to help. In an instant, Sirius appears and begins to manically wave his wand around, sending green sparks into the air.

"Oh, great Squid," he calls, "please accept this offering as a sign of my allegiance to you!"

Remus and I have long figured out that Sirius' whole things with the Squid has really just become his disparaging parody of his cousin Bellatrix's weirdly obsessive devotion to this 'Voldemort', the Dark Lord of the millennium.

"Sirius!" I complain. Severus is treading water, gripping me around the waist as hard as he can, to prevent me from sinking under the surface, but we're very slowly beginning to sink lower and lower. Sev doesn't dare swim for fear that he'll drop me. Eventually, Sirius and Felix help us out, and I push both of them into the water, and they fall, arms wheeling, simultaneously shouting in surprise.

"Mercy!" Felix howls, soaking wet.

"Where are you, Master? I love you!" Sirius says, after shaking his head like a dog, in a surprisingly good imitation of Bellatrix, looking down into the water.

He laughs so hard at his own imitation that he stops treading water and starts to sink, until he's completely underwater. Felix has to dive under to get him, before the grindylows do or the Squid does.

"Idiot," Severus says, pulling off his soaking wet cloak and struggling to remove the hair tie, wincing when he hears something rip.

"I've got it," I say, as Felix hauls Sirius feet first out of the water and drops him onto the ground, the two of them gasping for air. Sirius is coughing up water and Felix is empathetically smacking his back, until Sirius looks like he's about to die. I untangle the elastic and then comb his hair back better so I can tie it in again.

"Mercy, I don't want it in again!" Severus protests, turning towards me, which brings his face dangerously close to mine. His eyes widen, then slide half shut as we move closer together. In a split second, Sirius goes from lying on the ground, coughing up lake water, to getting straight up in our faces and pushing us apart.

"No! No! Baaaaad, Snape, baaaaad," Sirius says, bleating like a goat, "this is Felix's girlfriend." Severus just sort of blinks at Sirius in distaste.

"Sirius," I protest, "we weren't-"

"Nuh uh," he interrupts. "No, Mercy, only Felix and I are allowed to get that close to you."

"Since when are you included?"

"Well, to be fair, you two do scream in each other's face a fair amount when you sing," Felix says.

"Shhh," Sirius orders, pushing me so I'm standing next to Felix. "You're my OTP."

I gape at him, then laugh. "Liar!" I say, and he takes off running. "You're a liar! I know your OTP! Sirius! Come back!"

"NEVER!" he yells, voice faint, and I take off running after him. "YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME, ARMREST!"

"I'M SHORT, NOT SLOW!" I holler back.

Felix outstrips me, running as fast as his 5' 11'' frame allows, which is faster than me and Sirius- he's almost as tall as Carter is, and is mostly leg. When he's near to Sirius, Sirius looks back, and squawks in alarm as 5' 11' and 61 kgs barrels straight into him.

"Not fair!" he gasps, struggling for air as I approach and he leaps up and tackles me.

Halfway through running away, I stop short and step to the side, so that Sirius trips and runs straight past me into the ground.

Severus is talking to Antonin Dolohov and Thorfinn Rowle, and I very slowly walk over to him. Sirius, doubling back, slows and quiets, joining Felix and slowly following me towards Severus.

"Well, Severus," Dolohov is saying, "if you're done playing with your girl toy-"

Severus grits his teeth and I see his hand go to his wand in his pocket. Both of them notice this, and they laugh, drawing their own wands as well.

"You can't possibly think she's in love with you, really now," Rowle sneers. "Doesn't she already have a boyfriend? Come on, we've got business to attend to."

"What business could there possibly be?" Severus hisses.

"Followers, Severus, he's looking for followers."

"Do we have to do this now?"

"Why, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were... not completely loyal, hmm?"

"Jerk," Sirius mutters, under his breath. "Do you want me to stun him? I can stun him, you know."

I ignore him and take quick, long steps towards them, even though Felix protests. The three of them look at me in mild surprise, Dolohov and Rowle sneering slightly.

"Here she is, the pretty little girl herself," Dolohov says. "Hello." He holds out a hand to shake, but Severus knocks it away.

"Don't touch her."

"Something wrong?" Dolohov sneers. "A bit more possessive than I thought, I must admit, Severus."

"Go away," I say, since Severus seems unsure about saying it himself.

"Mercy," Severus mutters. "Don't let them make you the enemy or you'll be in trouble."

"Well," Rowle laughs. "At least she has more spirit than you." He lifts his wand and I reach to grab mine, but he's too quick and he yells out a spell.

Sirius hurls himself between us and the spell hits him. He collapses down on the ground with a howl of pain and then falls unconscious. I look at Rowle in horror, brandishing my own wand at him, but before I can do anything, Felix steps between us, using his height to tower over all of us, pushing both me and Severus back behind him.

"Get out," he says.

In almost slow motion, I see Dolohov raise his own wand, and I push Felix out of the way.

" _Crucio_!"

"NO!"

I'm blasted at least a foot back, and I hit the ground hard. I hear Felix's horrified scream before it overtakes me. It arrives. It strips me of reason it leaves me devoid of proper thought...

 **Cliffhanger yay! And Dancing-Souls, who ever you are, thanks for reviewing ';)**


	11. I'm not sure what's going on anymore

**Katica**

"And here we see the pompous bastard in his natural habitat, the classroom," I say wryly, in my best Steve Irwin accent, as Percy struts up to the table with his essay that's a foot longer than was assigned. Oliver snickers, and covers his mouth to stop himself from laughing when I imitate Percy walking around with his chest pushed proudly in front of him, exaggerating the swing of my shoulders as I march.

"Sit down!" Oliver laughs, yanking me back down into my seat before I can get in trouble with McGonagall, who quirks her lips as she glances over at me.

"Well, at least I did my homework when it was assigned, not yesterday night," Percy huffs, as he sits down and sees us laughing. I settle back into my chair and fiddle with my quill, getting ink all over my fingers and smearing them on Oliver's face, as McGonagall launches into her mini lecture before she lets us practice spells. Oliver leaps up, knocking his chair aside and crying out as I smear black smudges over his freckled face.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Wood?"

"N-no, Professor."

It's almost Christmas, and Charlie has invited me to the Weasley's for break. Oliver basically forced Percy to invite him over, instead of inviting Clearwater, and so the two of us will be fighting for the guest room. None of us have mentioned the incidents from a few days ago, instead Oliver has been bugging me more and Percy has been avoiding Clearwater. I hate to think that they're just doing it to make me feel better, but they are.

Percy, though, goes red every time he sees Charlie and I together, like he can't believe one of his brothers is dating his friend. He always tries to intervene, deigning to call our flirting 'disgusting', which everyone ignores. Chancer gives me hell for dating a Gryffindor, but eventually he just rolls his eyes and punches me in the shoulder when we talk about it. Lachlan has decided that it's time to confide in me about how much he dislikes his father, and I in turn tell him about my mother.

"What sappy songs do you listen to?" Lachlan asks me, sitting in the window of his dormitory, beside me and Mac playing wizard's chess on the floor. "I'm making a list."

"Sugar We're Going Down," Mac volunteers.

"I didn't know you listen to Fall Out Boy."

She makes a face. "I judge the song without any other knowledge of the artist."

"Whatever."

"Always by Panic! At The Disco," I say.

"Still Into You by Paramore."

"One More Night by Against the Current."

"The Honey and the Bee by Owl City."

"Lovely and Goner by Twenty One Pilots."

"I've Got a Crush by Frank Sinatra."

"Let's Get It On and Mercy Me by Marvin Gaye."

"Me by the 1975."

"Campus by Vampire Weekend."

"I'm Yours by Jason Mraz."

"That should be good," Lachlan stops us. "Although Twenty One Pilots songs are hardly sappy."

"Well, I like them," I protest.

"What's this for?" Mac asks, rolling off of her stomach to try to see his notebook. "Let me see!"

"No!" He yanks his notebook away from her and hugs it to his chest. "Get away, Mac!"

They chase each other around the room for a while I sit there and think about how they're the perfect match. I ship it. I wouldn't be surprised if it became canon. In fact, I'd be the one to force it to become canon.

At dinner I suddenly remember that it is Friday and I have those stupid lessons with Snape at 8. I look up, glaring, at Snape, only to see that he's glaring at me as well. McGonagall looks like she wants to tell him something, and when she glances at me I swear she's about to laugh. When she does say something to Snape, his glare becomes a death ray and she turns to Sprout and they start legit giggling.

At eight, I trudge to Snape's office, where he's waiting, a frown plastered all over his face.

"I expect nothing but obedience from you, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Show me your left forearm," he demands, and I obey, brandishing it at him and his wanting him to be surprised. He does indeed look surprised, mouth opening, then shutting and eyes dilating.

"You all have scars that you choose to keep," he breathes. "Why do you do things like that to yourself? Stupid girl."

"All due respect, sir, I don't want to tell you."

"Just as damn stubborn, as well. Tell me, does hardheaded mulishness carry to your siblings from your mother as well?"

"My brothers only three, I don't know, sir."

He inspects the scars from where he stands, and then rolls back his own left sleeve and shows me his left forearm.

The Dark Mark is emblazoned onto his pale skin, and it gives me a mini coronary when I see it. He looks as satisfied that he'd startled me as I'd felt when I'd startled him.

"Don't tell anyone or you're dead," he says shortly.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Wands out. If you use wandless magic, even if I'm your head of house, I'm taking points from Slytherin."

"Sir?!" I protest, aghast.

"You heard me. You'd better not screw up, if you're so against the idea."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and I almost think he's about to laugh at me. He builds off of the easy spells I've mostly gotten down, then progresses until I'm struggling so much to stop my magic from coming out when I don't want it to that I start sweating. I pull off my cloak and he asks me to try a Cheering Charm again, but I fail to do so. At least I didn't accidentally use wandless magic.

Sixty minutes later and I find myself collapsed straight onto my back, staring at the ceiling wondering if this is really helping. Snape stares down at me and shakes his head. "You give up too easily. Get up, Natsworthy, the floors are filthy."

I groan in protest as I pull myself standing. "How is this even helping me, Professor?"

He ignores this. "If you want to progress farther with your control of your magic, I wouldn't use any wandless magic at all. You'd just encourage it to become stronger if you do."

"Yes, sir."

"Wand up."

"Yes, sir."

"An easy one. Levitating spell."

I try, but even my arm shakes as I hold out my wand, and all the spell does is rattle things a bit.

"Try harder."

"I can't."

"You can, Natsworthy, you're just to stubborn."

"I'm tired, sir."

"You surely can do a Levitation spell?"

"I can barely stand right now."

"It's only been an hour."

"I'm tired, sir," I repeat. "I stayed up doing your homework assignments last night."

"Well, you should've be done it when it was assigned."

"I was doing practice for Charms and I broke every window in Gryffindor Tower."

"That has nothing to do with my assigned work. Levitate something. Go on."

...

"I can't walk," I say to my Quidditch Captain as I lie on the ground at the foot of the stairs in the Slytherin common room two hours later. "I'm sorry. I couldn't even make it up the stairs to my room. I fell, see?"

"We have a game on Sunday, you'd better be at practice tomorrow."

"Please, have mercy," I say, and instantly think about a joke my mother and father always make and frown. "I'm going to sleep for a year, I don't even care if I can't get upstairs."

"Natsworthy, you're shaking."

"I know."

He hauls me up and deposits me in an imposing leather armchair, pulling out the foot rest so I can slouch down into a horizontal position. "You'd better be at practice," he reiterates. "Shaking or not."

I sigh. "Yes, sir." He walks off, but at least he helped me onto something a bit softer than the ground.

"Kitty," Chancer says, appearing and sitting beside me.

"Go away," I groan. "I'm not in the mood to talk to you."

"Tired?"

"Yes. Now leave me alone."

"Aren't you going upstairs?"

"I can't walk. I fell down the stairs."

He winces. "Ouch. Need help?"

"Guys can't get into the girls dormitories."

He shrugs. "Oh well."

I lie there and shut my eyes, and seconds later Chancer drops his cloak on top of my shoulders and walks off. The common room eventually clears, until I'm the only one left down here and I fall asleep.

I wake up at some point at night because I'm weirdly hungry. Hungry enough to throw up on the floor and stumble straight out of the common room, hugging Chancer's cloak to me. I keep pitching forward and falling over because I'm still stiff unable to move properly from Snape's stupid lessons. I hurl myself straight through the hallway and to the kitchens, where I wake up the hundreds of house elves. They hurry towards me, leaping back as I throw up again.

"I'm sorry!" I say, gagging. One of them hands me a bucket, another begins cleaning up, and yet another pushes up one of their tiny chairs towards me and I sit down heavily. "Sorry to wake you, but I'm a bit hungry, and it's not doing well for me," I say. "Do you mind-"

They've already begun, and in a few instants I have a warm glass of milk and a plate of crackers and cheese and whatever other toppings they could find. "You can go back to sleep," I say. "I didn't really mean to wake you."

After multiple queries as to whether or not I'm dying, all but a few of them go back to sleep. I shiver into my borrowed cloak, even though I'm also wearing my own cloak and sitting next to the fireplace. At some point in my impromptu meal, the porthole beside me opens again, and I'm scared out of my skin when Snape appears.

"Out after curfew," he hisses, irritated to be awake, "ten points. What are you doing?"

Instead of answering I shove my entire cheese, tomato and ham cracker into my mouth and chew. He glares at me as I vigorously chew and make myself another cracker. "Natsworthy," he snaps, before I can open my mouth and ingest the next peanut butter and jelly cracker.

"I'm really, really hungry," I say simply, "and it cannot be helped." Then I manage to fit the entire cracker into my mouth and then return to chewing. He makes sort of an annoyed growl and slams a chair down in front of me and sits. I eat some chocolate spread, and once all of the small portions of condiments and the crackers are finished, I begin to eat the extra slices of cheese and meat. He observes me darkly, fazed by the fact that I'm now unfazed by him.

Finished, I set on finishing my milk, and look at him. "Your nose is strange," I say candidly, and he stiffens. "It looks like it's not supposed to be hooked."

"It's not."

"The cartilage is broken when it lumps up."

"I know."

"Who broke your nose, Professor?"

"It's none of your business."

"Thorfinn Rowle?"

He nearly stands, expression violently and rapidly changing from shock to horror to suspicion and then once again to his usual dour expression. "I expect- I expect your mother probably told you," he manages to say.

"Not really. I'm reading her journals. I'm on fourth year. A bit more kissing than I bargained for."

He grows very, very still and I try not to laugh. Oliver was right when he said that the journals were perfect blackmail material. Snape opens his mouth to speak, then stops. Then opens his mouth, then shuts it.

"And," I add, "you're one of my godfathers. You and Remus both."

"She wasn't supposed to let you know that," Snape says darkly. "I can assure you that there is absolutely no connection between me and Lupin because of it. Your father chose Lupin."

"Moony's a good guy. I like him." I finish my meal with aplomb and get up and wash my dishes myself, setting them onto the drying rack carefully and then turning back to Snape. Oh, how the tables have turned- he looks afraid at what I'm going to say next.

"The real question is why you're not my father and Carter is. I mean, I guess there's really no accounting for tastes, but my mother really liked you. Something happened, right?"

His eyes widen slightly. "Then you don't know?" he asks, and then looks like he's about to slap himself for saying it. "Right, you're in fourth year."

"What happened?"

"You can get to it when you need to. It is not my decision, it is your mother's." He stands, and I follow him out of the kitchens.

"But you can tell me, can't you?" I persist. "You know. So does all the rest of the staff. I bet if I asked Sprout she'd spill faster than the rest."

"Do not ask her," Snape says, confirming my suspicions.

"Just tell me now, Professor."

"No!"

"Please?"

"No, Natsworthy, and if you bother me any more I'm giving you detention."

"That's not fair. Your advantage is larger than mine because you're a professor and all I've got is a journal to blackmail you with."

"Natsworthy!"

"Come on, Professor, I'm very nearly your daughter."

"That's not true. And I'll give you a week if you don't shut up."

"I don't care. I can bother you then. And I'll just ask any other teacher you give me to."

"I'll give you to Filch."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I can do whatever I want," he says indignantly. "Now please, just get back to your dormitory."

"Fine."

As we walk farther down the hall I can feel myself getting nauseous, and I clamp my mouth stubbornly shut, battling the feeling away. Then I admit defeat when I sprint to the bathroom down the hall and hurl into the nearest toilet. There goes my food.

"You're sick," he says, from the doorway. "Aren't you. Clever, clever glamour charm you used, though. No glazed eyes, no pale complexion, nothing."

"Well, Oliver pretends to hero worship me for a reason," I say wryly. "I did set both the Slytherin and Gryffindor common rooms on fire."

"You should've said you were sick."

"I didn't know until I woke up throwing up, did I?"

"You threw up and the first thing you did was eat again?"

"Yeah, Percy calls me stupid all the time. Should have more faith in my friends."

I throw up again, and Snape shakes his head and yanks me out of the room and up to the hospital wing. "I don't need to go," I protest. "Professor!"

"You do need to go," he says.

"NO!"

He stops and looks at me, puzzled at my reaction. "Fine then," he says slowly, "my office is nearer, anyways."

Arriving at his office, he hands me an anti-nausea potion, measures my temperature with a cauldron thermometer and gives me a cookie. It seems as if every professor has a tin of cookies in their desk. I wonder if that's Dumbledore's doing.

"Thanks."

"You really should see Madam Pomfrey."

"But I-"

"Fortunately, I have Pepperup Potion so you don't need to for now." He hands me a potion, expression inscrutable as he studies me.

"Oh. Thanks," I say, taking it from him. I grimace as I swallow the potion and it burns the back of my throat. I cough a little and then feel my sinuses clear. You always take clear sinuses for granted until they're clogged, and I inhale generously.

"You still have a temperature, though. Get back to your dormitory."

"Yes, sir," When I stand I feel the floor spin beneath me but pretend I don't. I nearly make it to the door when he stops me again. I nearly groan aloud, wondering what it is this time.

"What's that on your ankle?"

I stop walking and turn. "What?"

He leans across his desk and looks down at my right ankle, where the leg of my pants had been momentarily hiked up as I stuck my hands into my pocket. I had, in a moment of ingenuity, stolen a pair of khakis from Oliver and had since tacked up the ankles a lot so that they fit. I hate skirts.

"Nothing," I say. "There's nothing there."

"Let me see, then," he demands, and I show him the inside of my right ankle, trying not to look too suspicious. "The other side," he says, rolling his eyes.

"Nothing there."

"Let me see, Natsworthy."

I sigh and show him, only pulling the ankle of my pants up by a few inches. "It's nothing, alright, I knocked my ankle into a table and I bruise easily."

"You can hit your ankle and get bruised all the way up your calf?"

"I'm notoriously clumsy. Besides. It's not bruised up my calf."

"You were limping."

"I'm just dizzy."

"You're a good liar but so am I. Show me how far up it goes."

"No!"

He waves his wand and pulls the leg of my uniform up, revealing multiple round bruises. "How many tables did you run into, again?"

"Listen, I just bruise really, really easily."

"Right. Who kicked you?"

"No one."

"No one today, maybe."

"I'm fine."

"No, you are most definitely not."

"Yes, I am."

"Stop lying or you're getting detention."

"I don't care."

"Who is it?"

"I'm not a rat. I just don't know why they hate me."

He sighs, letting the leg of my pants drop back over my ankle. "You'll get to it in the journal."

"You mean it's something my mom did? Is it something you won't tell me? Is it why she's sick? Why won't anyone tell me what it is?" I say, voice rising until I slam both of my fists down onto the desk.

"You need to sleep."

"I need to know!"

"No, you don't."

"I hate it! No one will tell me! I hate my mother! And you! You won't tell me either, even if that's all I want to know! Just tell me!"

"You need to calm down."

"No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!" he snarls. "Calm down, and sit. I'm going to get hell for it but I'm going to tell you, alright?"

After a moment, I sit.

"Your mother was a Death Eater," he says. "She joined me a year after she left school, when Regulus died. She did say that if any of her friends, she'd join."

"He... died?"

"Killed, in a matter of speaking. No one really knows how. He just never came home one day, and their house elf appeared screaming that he'd died, but he couldn't tell anyone where or how or why, because he was so distraught."

"But-"

"Just shut up and listen to the little I can tell you, alright?"

"Sorry."

"Lily married Potter a year after they got out of school, and Sirius Black proposed to your mother a year after, just before the Potters died. His family was a bit happier- they thought their son had been trying for redemption by marrying a Death Eater."

"What? My mother and Sirius got married? Oh, that must've been a blow for you-"

"What did I say? Shhh."

"Sorry."

"Anyway, after Lily and James died, Lupin ran away. Pettigrew vanished and Sirius was, I don't know. Insane. No one could believe that he'd betrayed the Potters- they'd made him their Secret Keeper and he'd sold them to the Dark Lord. He went after Pettigrew and Mercy called off the wedding and everything because neither of them were in the mood for it after the Potters had died. Even though she was still willing to marry him, even after his betrayal. I don't know why, she never told me. Sirius was thrown into Azkaban, and Carter Natsworthy decided that it would be best for all if he married Mercy, because she was pregnant."

"With me?"

"Who else? At some point during the war, Carter had made himself an enemy of the Death Eaters, and once Mercy married him it was clear that she was nothing but a spy for Dumbledore, and all the former followers of the Dark Lord got upset, and it wasn't safe- she had to leave somewhere, except since all of us had scattered after the Dark Lord's death, there wasn't really a safe place to go. So we sent her somewhere else."

"Where?"

"Very, very far back into time."

"What? That's not even- that's ridiculous!"

"That's what I thought, but she went anyway, weird things happen to people who meddle with time, and eventually she had to come back because she was sick. When it was finally safe enough, she came back, except she came back to the wrong time- 1976 instead of 1983. And then she had you. She couldn't travel anymore because time travel was messing with her body, so she just lived out in hiding until it came to the time in 1983 when she was supposed to return. So she arrived in 1983 with you as a seven year old, and just went back to living with Carter."

"But we're not allowed to time travel!"

"Dumbledore was involved, so I don't know."

"But I... I don't understand. So. Sirius Black is..."

"Your father," Snape supplies.

"My father. And Carter is..."

"Legally your father."

"Ah. And Sirius Black is a mass murderer? In Azkaban? And betrayed the Potters?"

"Yes. He killed Pettigrew and twelve other Muggles and sold the Potters out to Voldemort. Sentenced immediately without trial by Dumbledore and Crouch."

"He killed Peter. Wormtail. His friend. And he was with Voldemort all along?"

"Right. It appears so."

"And so, the reason why it seems like everyone knew I was Sirius' daughter is because-?"

"Because you look like him."

"No I don't."

"You're also as stupid as him."

"He wasn't stupid! Just sometimes he can't see what's in front of his face."

"Exactly."

"So everyone knows except me?"

"I don't know, Oliver Wood seems dense enough."

I make a face at him, and he shrugs. "But you're telling me that Regulus Black is dead, that Peter Pettigrew is also dead, that Carter isn't my real father, and that everyone knew except for me?"

"Correct."

"But Sirius is alive."

"Barely, probably. He's been in Azkaban for what, eight years?"

"So I'm the daughter of a lying, murderous, traitorous, heartless criminal who is currently locked up in Azkaban?"

He hesitates. "Y-yes."

"Are you sure you're talking about Sirius? Because I'd never imagine in a million years that... well, that..."

"No one could believe it either."

"But it's true? It's really Sirius you're talking about?" I try to imagine him- the casual elegant, handsome fifteen year old I saw in pictures my mother had taken of him.

"Yes."

"Fuck."

"Come on, it's not that bad."

"Yes, it is."

"Well, maybe it is," he admits.

I roll my eyes. "Thanks."

"You're alright with it then?"

"I think so."

"You don't look alright."

"I'm fine," I say forcefully, standing violently and walking straight out of the room, nearly running into the wall instead of going through the door.

"Natsworthy!"

"Don't call me that!"

"There's something else."

"What?"

"Come back in."

I obey and walk back in, feeling somewhat dazed.

"Your name... it's not... you don't look too good."

"What's my name? Just tell me, I want to go to sleep."

"Hester Black."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'm just going to sleep, and when I wake up, it'll all be gone."

"No- Katica-"

I walk out of the room and into the common room and up the stairs until I'm in bed, and then I pass out and don't wake up until I'm fatally late for Charms.

I stumble into class, without my glasses, and sit beside Oliver, rubbing my eyes.

"You're thirty minutes late," Percy scolds, leaning over to look at me.

"Sorry," I yawn. "I'm sick. Pomfrey ambushed me in the hallway and forced me to drink something or another. She spent more time yelling at me than actually healing me."

"You're sick?" Percy asks, in concern.

"Well, I was."

"You sure look it," Oliver observes.

"Ugh. I can't even walk properly. I'm too tired from yesterday's extra lessons with Snape. What spell are we doing, anyway?"

"Nothing. We were too rowdy and Flitwick just left."

I groan. "So I didn't have to get out of bed at all?"

"No, not really. But hey, day after tomorrow is Christmas break," Oliver says. "Oh, since you weren't at breakfast, I brought these, just in case." He picks something up that had been resting on the corner of his desk, which I hadn't been able to see (because I'm virtually blind without my glasses). It's a stack of toast.

"Oh, Merlin, Oliver, you're an angel," I say, grabbing them from him and devouring a slice. "Let's get out of here. I want to go outside."

We leave the room, like many of the other students are doing, and walk down a few flights of moveable stairs into the entryway, stepping out into the snow.

"Can you see?" Percy asks me, as I turn my head back and forth and see only white.

"No."

"Because I have an extra pair of your glasses in my bag," he says, handing me a pair of thick framed, plastic glasses that are practically indestructible, because they're intact but have been at the bottom of Percy's bag for three years.

"You have an extra pair?"

"Yeah, you gave them to me first year and said you always lose your glasses."

"Right. I remember. Thanks." The world comes back into focus as I pull them on. "Charlie's down at Hagrid's, I want to visit."

"Of course we're going down to see Charlie."

"Oh, come on. He's your brother!" Oliver teases, bounding after me as we slip and stumble through the snow. "Hurry up, Perce!"

We knock on Hagrid's cabin door, and, as expected, Charlie opens it.

"Hi, guys," he says. "Come in."

"Hey!" Hagrid greets cheerily, "Wasn't expecting this much company. Come in, come in. I've got tea brewing. And I baked something."

The only one who seems to like Hagrid's cooking is Oliver, who dives into the hard-as-rock cookies with eagerness, as Hagrid watches in satisfaction. We all sit shoulder to shoulder, Hagrid on his bed and the four of us in the chairs and barrels in the room, drinking tea.

"We're all going to the Weasley's for Christmas break," Oliver says. "I actually haven't bought anything at all for anyone yet. I haven't had the time. Or the money."

"Me neither," Charlie agrees. "I haven't gotten anything. How about you, Kat?"

"I've gotten a few things."

"How?!" Charlie asks, curious. "You haven't been down to Hogsmeade since our date and you didn't buy anything then!"

"I had a few things," I shrug. "I don't have money either, but I like making things myself."

"Really?" Oliver asks. "What did you make?"

"I can't tell you."

"So you've already made my present?"

"Yeah, I have."

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you!"

 **Mercy**

 _"Crucio! Crucio Crucio Crucio!_ _" A manic laugh rolls out from Dolohov._

 _"Stop it! Stop it, oh holy Merlin, Severus- No, you come back here Antonin Dolohov-"_

 _The sound of a fist striking skin._

 _"Stupefy!" Severus' voice. Someone falls to the ground._

 _"Oh God, Severus, what do we do? Mercy? Mercy?!"_

it _feels as if every joint in my body has been unhinged my mouth wideopen in a painful ~shriekcryscream every muscle has been tornripped_ _ **shredded**_ _from my bones my brain has been sucked_ _ **fucked**_ _hurt from my skull through my eye sockets theres a ^highpitchedringing in my ears i'm the one making the ~noisescreechhowl_ it _hurts_ _ **{**_ _whydontimyselffromscreaming stop_ it _hurts_ it _hurts_ it _hurts_ it _hurts helpme_ _ **whereareyou**_ _helpmeisanyonethere?_ _ **}**_ _my skin is on fire every single strand of my wet hair seems to riptearclaw at my scalpand i ~clutchgripclamp my head as agony expands in my head like hot air_ _ **{**_ _ouch_ _ **please**_ _make_ it _stop icantthinkstraight_ _ **}**_ _until_ it _threatens to explode/implode scalding my ears & every part of my body i can possibly think of buticantreallythinkanyway. _it _is an everpresentomnipresent being that tears through me and i can barely think about_ it _although it_ _is the onlything i know._

 _icant see anything ican't hear anything not anymore_ _ **{**_ _amidying_ _ **ihopeiam}**_ _i can barely movei am in so much pain that i can hardly think_ it _**roars**_ _through me & pullsreelsyanks up my skin & veins & arteries like rolling up a length of rope strippingforcing me down to __**wetexposed**_ _**flesh**_ _that achesstings like ive been rolled in saltfire_ _ **hell**_

 _cramps rollviolate_ _ **grope**_ _up & down my body and my muscles seem to insideout themselves until all i can do is curl up on the grass that impales me like knives & screamshriek helpplease lostentome & hurt & ache im on fire, im __**drowning**_ _my lungs are screaming for air —every breath makes_ it _feel like im pulling my internal organs out through my mouth & wrapping _it _around a skewer that i stab myself with_

it _hurts_ it _hurts_ it _hurts_ it _hurts When_ _ **Severus**_ _**{**_ _ohgod_ _ **sev**_ _helpmeplease_ _ **tell me you know how to fix this}**_ _touches me excruciating stabs of pain inject themselves deep into my raw skin im in_ _ **complete**_ _and utter_ _ **(**_ _?morelikeimrepeatedlydying_ _ **overandoverandoverandocerandoverand-) agony**_

 _the panic_ _ **thefear**_ _claw through my lungs & the back of my throat _it _makes my mind_ _ **{**_ _doihaveoneanymore?_ _ **}**_ _**white**_ _hot with pain & absolute and __**sickening**_ _terror_ it _makes my heart beat so_ _fast_ _**icant keep up with**_ **it** it _loses me in a cloud of sand as it races away & i ~inhale_ _ **suck**_ _gasp the dust as_ it _chafes_ _ **peels**_ _burns_ _ **grates**_ _away every inch of skin im burning in the sun im_ _ **flying**_ _through the dry and hot air im_ _ **hurting**_ _all over but things have changed a bit-_

 _im hurting all over, — the delicious pain is_ _quite_ _ **exquis**_ **it** _ **e**_ _elegant_ _ **sexy**_ _crawling over my skin like insects_ _ **sensuously**_ _weaving_ it _s way through the creases of my brain like_ _ **scarlet**_ _ribbons of paingripping my legs & arms & __**twistingwrenching**_ _them all the way around so i cry out_ it _winds tight around my abdomen im being decapitated or amputated where is the anesthesia my heart is being_ _ **ripped**_ _straight from my ribcage in an explosion of blood my_ _ **life**_ _draining from me every ounce of_ it _scalding and shrieking as_ it _leaves my veins which are wide and pounding with my boiling blood O,_ it _hurts the pain that_ _ **licks my lips**_ _& __**kisses**_ _me with passionate hatred_ it _seeps into me and chokes me & then laughs and proceeds to pull out anything i've ever held in my head, my __**love**_ _my_ _ **happiness**_ _my_ _ **faith**_ _my hope_ it _killsdestroysobliterates everything im holding onto laughing maniacally_ _ **psychotically**_ _wildly the wholeentire time until im left in the_ _ **grey**_ _room of my mind the pain attacking me like electric shocks from everywhere,_ _ **{**_ _nowhereissafenowhereiswithoutpain_ _ **}**_ _the world has become an angry ball of agony_ _**& I am **_**it** _ **s heart**_

And then, it stops.

gravity has stopped working, and even though the pain has stopped, the memory of it haunts me as i fall out of the world and through layers of gauzy darkness i just want to wake up at this point, you know, but i can't because the pain has left me ravaged and cut open everywhere, maybe i'm just a slip of a raw heart, floating away, barely able to beat because it's bound by metal bands of memory

"Mercy Gaffery? Can you hear me?"

I try to open my eyes, which are heavy and feel like they're glued tight, but I fail to do so and begin to panic.

"It's alright, honey, you can't move right now. You're too tired. Just relax... You're at St. Mungo's. Just go to sleep," the voice soothes, "it's going to be okay. You're safe now."

A few days later, and I open my eyes when I hear Severus' voice.

"I'm sorry," he's saying, and a moment later, I hear him sob.

"Severus!" I say, eyes flying open, so unused to the notion of Severus Snape crying that it sends me straight into being fully awake and all I can think is that I wish I had my camera with me. My voice is scratchy and unused, every part of my body set with a dull ache. I sit up and feel my muscles protesting, but in the usual way that they do when you've been laying down for a long time. Im almost grateful for it, because it isn't the _pain_.

His perfectly straight nose is now hooked, like someone had broken it, or something. His scowl transforms into a small, relieved smile and he leans over the side of the cot to hug me, knocking the breath straight from my lungs. He stays like that, gripping me tight to his chest, and after a couple moments I realize he's still crying.

"Are you okay?" I ask him.

"I should be asking you that," he says, laughing, though he's tearing up, even as he wipes his face with his sleeves. "I'm so, so sorry, Mercy. Are you alright?"

He takes my head with both hands on the Sadie of my face and feels my nose, lips, eyebrows, with his thumbs, like he's making sure I'm really me, then kisses me gently, pulls away to look at me, then kisses me again, harder; kisses me until we're both gasping for air and my cheeks are wet from his tears. It's obvious neither of us is any good at snogging, but the harder he grips me the harder he snogs me, like he's making sure I'm solid and real and alive. He pulls away and laughs then turns away so that he doesn't start crying again, and this is when the nurse comes in.

"You're awake!" she exclaims, rushing over to me. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

She does a couple checks, asks me to walk around a little, which I do unsteadily, and then sits me back in bed, demanding that I eat before I move around any more.

"Should I get Edminston or the Blacks or someone?" Severus asks.

"Not yet," I shake my head, rubbing my eyes. "I don't want too many people in the room at the same time."

"I can get Black and then leave, if you want," he offers.

"Severus, just _stay_."

Food comes and I start to eat, ravenous. "How long have I been out?"

"Four days."

"What happened?"

"After Dolohov hit you, Felix punched him and he passed out, and Rowle ran away. Black came to with a huge bruise where he was hit, but he's alright now. Dolohov's been expelled, naturally, and Rowle's got a year's suspension. Dumbledore and McGonagall are furious. All the professors are furious. Slytherin lost nearly all their points and Lily has been crying. Lupin's been in some sort of shock- he sent you those chocolates, by the way, on the table over there, and Regulus beat up Rowle in the common room, so he's on a few days suspension as well. And Carter... he's been visiting every day, with the Blacks."

"And you?"

"They're mad at me for attacking Rowle- my friends, that is- and they've been giving me hell for having more loyalty to you than them. They did somethings to me while was a sleep. And hence-" he gestures to his nose, and attempts to joke around. "It's the end of my ridiculously straight nose. I don't really mind it, though. Scares more people away."

"I don't care what your nose looks like, as long as you have one. I'm just sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not even sorry for myself."

"Depends on what you're sorry about. I'm just a sorry they're hurting you."

"It's nothing compared to what Dolohov did to you."

"I'm never complaining about a little headache ever again, that's for sure," I joke, but feel a bit empty and dark, about the whole thing, even though I put on the pretense of being wryly cheerful. "Bacon?"

I hand him a strip and he jams it into his mouth. Once he swallows, he launches into multiple profanities against Dolohov, with so much righteous anger that I'm surprised and eventually ask him to stop.

"A fifteen year old shouldn't be put under an unforgivable," the nurse says when she reenters the room. "And neither should a fifteen year old know how to cast one. Dark times are upon us, little girl, and you need to be ready. Whoever did this to you, you're going to get better and then curse their sorry self off of the planet."

I smile, thank her, and she cleans up my tray and leaves.

I gesture Severus up onto the foot of the bed, where he sits with his legs curled beneath him.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"A bit achy, that's all."

"Do you want to see someone now?" he asks me.

"No. I don't want to see anyone."

"Why not?"

"It's too much."

"Are you really okay?"

"Do you think I'm okay?!" I burst out. "I don't want to sound like a wimp, but getting tortured, no matter how briefly, is pretty good to mess you up!"

"Sorry, sorry."

"Have they been giving a lot or homework?" I ask, after a moment of silence.

"Well, some kids were pulled out of school. Parents are getting nervous. Only a few, but even the teachers are banking on homework. People are scared. The enemy is right in the school, and they're too powerful to resist. Where do you think Dolohov learned to do that to people? There are other people training kids to fight for the wrong things, and it scares everyone."

"Sirius must be happy about the decreased workload."

"He's been moping around all week, actually."

I shrug and look sideways, out of the window. "This is another tragic experience to add to my list of mental scars," I comment. "First the stalking in America, then the car accident, and now this."

"Stalking?"

"I think that's what it's called. You know, following you around and making you nervous for no conceivably good reason. People didn't like us, in America."

"I can't see how."

I laugh dryly. "Sure you can."

He traces my scar lightly with firm, experienced strokes, and looks up at me. "It's going to be okay. Lighten up."

"Those are my lines," I laugh.

Severus leans forward and snogs me until I am properly breathless, his hair falling into his face, hands shaking.

"Are you sure you're Severus?" I ask. "What happened you your precious Lily?"

"Yeah," he replies, ears red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you- uncomfortable. I didn't want them to hurt her either, so I told her we couldn't be friends anymore."

"You know I'm not a replacement for her."

He looks surprised at this. "No, I know. You two aren't remotely alike. It's better for her, though, because they probably won't hurt you again, but they can hurt her. Potter will do more than just stand there and watch as she's tortured. He'd die for her."

"You'd die for her as well."

"Yes, but what harm would happen to her before that?"

"You're really admitting defeat to Potter?"

"It's not defeat if we're on the same side."

"If it's any consolation, it's not your fault."

"It is!"

"No, it's Dolohov's fault, and everyone else like him's fault. And he's been punished, even if you think he deserves worse."

"I shouldn't've just stood there watching."

"Severus, it's _fine_."

"It isn't! You were _tortured_ ," he says. "That's not fine."

"No, but _you're_ fine," I correct. "You do why you have to, I'm not going to count it against you."

"I'd rather you did. It's worse when you pretend I'm perfect."

"You don't have to be, Sev, I told you, I can love you as well as I can love someone like Regulus, or Sirius. I don't care if you've gotten yourself into a ghastly mess, I just care that you are yourself." He kisses me again, hard, but I push back, until he ends up beneath me and he tries to sit up and ends up falling flat onto his back.

"Mercy," he laughs, "get off me."

I lean back and he pushes me over, grabbing a pillow and smacking me with it. "Hey!" I say, as he fends me off it. I manage to grab it from his hands, and catch him in a kiss before he can grab it back.

He pulls away, smothering a laugh and looking away. "I've never snogged anyone before this, you know. This is an awful lot more kissing than I expected to do."

"That's too bad, isn't it?"

"You didn't attack Felix like this did you?"

"No," I admit. "You're just asking for it."

"How am I asking for it? I'm not even- mmph!" I cut him off and he goes to push me away at first, then changes his mind and kisses me back. When we break apart, he finishes his sentence. "I'm not even good at kissing," he pants, then goes straight back to sticking his tongue in my mouth.

There's a knock on the door, and we scramble away from each other.

"It's open," I say, and Sirius bursts into the room. He launches himself towards me and nearly pushes me off the bed.

"Mercy!" he exclaims, throwing his arms tight around me. "Oh my God, Mercy. you're awake." He releases me, and looks me over. "Are you okay? Do you feel alright?"

"I'm fine, Sirius."

He laughs. "I haven't heard my name said in an accent like that for too long."

"It was only four days."

"That's too long."

I look behind Sirius as he jostles Severus for a seat at the foot of the bed, and Regulus stands there, against the wall, as Carter takes a seat in the industrial plastic folding chair beside me.

"You look sick," Regulus tells me, bluntly. "What did it feel like?"

"Bad."

He laughs without humor. "You could say that, could you."

"It felt like my skin was being peeled off with a cheese grater and my muscles were being stripped off of my bones and all my joints became unhinged and my bones all snapped in half."

"I know," he says darkly.

"You know?"

We all turn to look at Regulus, and he flushes, shaking his head violently. "I mean, I know it hurts a lot."

"You've eaten?" Carter asks, sensing that Regulus dearly needs a change in subject.

"Yep."

"Good. I'm glad to see you're awake."

Severus takes the shift in conversation as an opportunity to leave the room, and I protest, but he shuts the door and vanishes. Sirius readjusts his position at the bottom of the bed and grins at me.

"So you're feeling completely alright, now?"

"Just achy from lying down for four days."

"That's good. We had to find a replacement Chaser for the game two days ago, and we lost."

"Really? Who was the replacement?"

"Me."

"YOU?! Sirius, you don't even know how to play Quidditch!"

"It was dreadful," Carter says. "He nearly broke a goal post."

"Well that's because your Beater hit a Bludger at me!"

"He was _supposed_ to do that! You weren't suppose to scream and fly straight at him like you wanted to kill him."

"He was trying to kill me!"

"James laughed until he cried," Carter informs me, "and our Seeker caught the snitch because he was flying into his own seeker."

"Well," I say, rolling my eyes. "At least we didn't really need that win. We just really need to beat Ravenclaw next week."

"Speaking of Ravenclaws, after you were hit, Felix hooked Dolohov a good one and then carried you to the castle. I think he's been mentally scarred by the whole incident."

"Where is he?"

"At school," Carter says. "All he's been doing is studying and skulking around. He hasn't been eating much, either."

"How long are they going to keep you here?" Sirius asks, and I shrug.

After an exhausting two hours, the three of them leave, informing me that McGonagall had set up a portkey and would probably be visiting soon. I'm left sitting in the grey room, hunched over my knees, wondering if someone else would come in.

I look over and pick up my wand from the table, twirling it so that music begins to play, then fall onto my back and stare at the ceiling as I drift off to sleep. Eventually the music shuts off, and I tumble head first into a dream.

I wake up screaming, although I can't even remember what I was dreaming about, and sit up so fast I fall out of bed and then just sit there crying pathetically.

There had been someone sleeping in the chair beside me, and she rushes over to me now, fully awake.

"Miss Natsworthy!" Professor McGonagall says, kneeling beside me and putting an arm around my shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I say, wiping my eyes angrily and taking a deep breath. "I'm fine."

"You can't possibly be 'fine', but I'll assume you mean you aren't in any pain."

I give her a watery smile, and she helps me up. "You didn't have to visit, you know, Professor," I say, once I'm settled back in bed. "Aren't you busy?"

"Nonsense. One of my students was tortured mentally and physically. You think I won't visit her?"

"I'm fine, Professor."

"I highly doubt a fifteen year old can come out of that experience and just be fine, Natsworthy."

"I've got Severus and Sirius and Carter and Regulus and all my other friends, I think I'll be alright."

"It's not just the amount of caring friends that ensures that you'll be alright. They don't know how to deal with people who have been through your situation. I know you love all of your friends, but you yourself must gather strength to recover."

"I know."

"Have courage," she tells me, looking at me hunched over with my chin on my knees. "Even a Gryffindor can forget to be brave. Anyways, I'll send Edminston, Lupin, and Evans over tomorrow. The maximum visitors is five, but I don't think you're ready for a lot of guests."

"Thanks, Professor."

"Now go back to sleep. We'll let you back to school the day after tomorrow, if you're feeling up to it."

"I will, don't worry."

She nods, clasps one hand encouragingly over mine, and sweeps out of the room.

 **Hey, ya, please review...**


	12. ahahaha yeah

**This chapter is like entirely Mercy because I'm still working on Katica's part and it's still almost 8 thousand words without it. Sorry about all the snogging I did warn you the genre is romance**

 **Mercy**

The next morning, Lily, Felix, and Remus comes in while I'm eating breakfast. Lily hugs me so hard I think I'm about to suffocate, and Felix looks so relieved he bursts into tears and sits down with his head between his knees.

Remus helps himself to the half empty box of chocolates he'd given me, and hands me the homework from the past days, simultaneously consoling Felix, patting his back. Ah, Remus the mother of us all.

"How are you feeling?" Remus asks, as Felix regains his composure and accepts chocolate from him.

"Better. Regulus, Carter, Sirius and Severus visited yesterday."

"Sev did mention, although he's pretty much stopped talking to me altogether. I can't believe he can still hang out with those goons after what Dolohov did to you!" she fumes. "Well. As long as you're better, things are alright for now."

"You shouldn't've pushed me out of the way," Felix says.

"Oh, shut up. I would've done it whether I should have or not. You think I'd let you get hit by an Unforgivable?"

"You should have."

I shake my head. "Look at me. I'm fine. It's alright."

"It isn't. You're not fine. I can't believe Dolohov would come out with the _Cruciatus_ , though! It's unbelievable!"

"You could say... It was unforgivable," I say, a wide grin spreading across my face, and Remus makes the _badum-tss_ sound. Lily rolls her eyes and Felix laughs.

"Your puns are the worst," Felix says, rolling his eyes.

"The worst are the best."

"When are you coming back to school?"

"Tomorrow," I answer, returning to my breakfast. "Remus, are you going to eat that whole thing?"

"It's my chocolate, I just let you borrow it," he protests. "You ate a good half, anyway. It's not like you didn't get enough."

"So are you guys missing class?" I ask.

"No, it's just breakfast. I've got to leave for Arithmancy in six minutes," Remus says.

"Me as well," Felix adds.

We chat for a little longer, and when they have to leave, Felix engulfs me in a huge hug and kisses me chastely before leaving with Remus. Lily takes up the place beside me.

"I'm glad you're feeling okay," she says earnestly, anxiously searching my face.

"Me too."

"I was reading that book you gave me for Christmas, and I really think you deserve a break. Not this whole torturing thing. Where in America did you live?"

"Bed-Stuy. Good old Bed-Stuy do or die," I sigh. "Bedford-Stuyvesant. It's in Brooklyn, New York."

"You had a bad break. I'm sorry about your family, I mean, didn't they all die? That must've been terrible."

"Yeah. Except for me and Aunt Callie, there aren't anymore people related to the Gaffey's."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. We make do. Being alone isn't that bad. It's not the same as being lonely."

Lily smiles, and we fall into momentary silence. Then she looks back at me. "Is Sev mad at me?"

"No."

"Really?"

"He doesn't want his friends to attack you. I mean, we knew they were mean, we just never imagined that they'd go as far as they did. He wants them to be as far away from you as they can."

"I figured it was something like that," she admits. "But I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, well I can take care of myself as well, and look where I am. Besides. You've got Potter."

"Oh, shut up. Potter's insufferable. You can't possibly believe that I'd be remotely friendly with him."

"He's trying to be nice."

"Well maybe he shouldn't hex Severus."

"You can tell him that, and he's stop, you know. He's do anything for you."

"He's arrogant."

"Of course he is. He's spoiled."

"He's dumb."

"Oh, come on, Lily. He's smart and you know it."

"I just don't like him!"

"Well, actually, me neither. But he tries so hard to get you to like him, sometimes I feel bad for him."

"Well I don't. I wish he'd stop."

"That's what you say now."

"Mercy!"

"Sorry, sorry."

She rolls her eyes and laughs. "I've got to go, I have Potions."

"Have fun."

She makes a face at me before leaving. I sit there for a few minutes, the slouch back onto my back and stare at the ceiling for a moment before starting in on my homework. It's true, there isn't as much as is usually assigned, and Remus' notes are impeccable. It takes me about most of the morning to finish, and before lunch comes the nurse let's me get up and walk around.

I have the hospital clothes on, but I'm given a pair of leggings and a sweater a size too large. I change and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I'm startled by how normal I look- only the rings faintly colored beneath my eyes giving away the fact that I'm not feeling up to par.

I step into the hallway and take a few more unsteady steps before breaking out into a full sprint and running up and down the hall, the fluorescent lights flashing overhead, reflected in the waxed floors. The pain in my knees and thighs, from being stationary in bed, swell and then work themselves out, and I slow to a walk, closing my eyes, tilting my face to the ceiling, and taking deep breaths. I stop walking altogether and open my eyes, pulling the hair from around my face and seeing the last person I ever expected to see, standing before me, wide eyes gawking at me.

"What?" I snap at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Stretching my legs."

"I mean, why are you here?"

"Why are _you_ here?"

"The Flint's kid hit me with an untested spell and I stopped breathing properly."

I look at the oxygen tank hovering beside a thin, pale Lucius Malfoy and laugh. "Alright. I've got to go. Lunch is waiting."

"Wait! Why are you here?"

"Dolohov tortured me."

Malfoy's eyes narrow. "Antonin Dolohov managed to do the _Cruciatus_ curse?"

"Yes."

He looks surprised. "Good for him."

I smack him and he reels backwards, a red mark forming on his pale skin. "Get out of my way," I snarl, shoving him out of the way and marching down the hallway.

"Wait, Gaffery."

I stop, and turn.

"He's just doing it because he sees you as the enemy. If you join us, you could be safe."

"No thanks. I don't fancy pasty pale boys up to their elbows in the Dark Arts."

"Please. You've got a clean record so far, join us before you're too defiled to be accepted."

"I don't like you people."

"And yet I hear you and Regulus Black are quite close?"

"We're friends because he has the right intentions. He just needs help."

"And Snape and you are quite cozy, I've also heard."

"Severus is different."

"Or so you say. Not many people can hold out in situations like these, you know. He won't be different for long."

"You can't know that."

"Of course I can. We've all been in his position before, and look at us now."

"He's different," I say stubbornly.

"Just because you say he is doesn't mean it's true."

"I know Severus."

"As do I. The question is which version of Severus Snape is the one that will win over the other."

"Lucius!" Another voice barks from behind me.

"Speak of the devil and he will appear," Malfoy says, face transforming into a sly smirk. "Hello, Severus. I was just... discussing things with lovely Mercy Gaffery here. Wonderful girl, a nice catch all around. Well, nice talking to you, dear, lunch is waiting."

And he breezes off. I stand there, absolutely fuming, hands clenched into fists. Stupid, arrogant Malfoy.

"Mercy?" Severus asks, and I turn. He stands there in his school uniform, his books still in his arms. "I don't have classes the second part of today, and I thought I'd visit again."

I hug him, and he drops all of his books and hugs me back.

"You alright?" he asks.

"I love you," I say, and he stops breathing for a moment, then pushes me away.

"Why, what did Malfoy say?"

"It's not important. Let's go. I want lunch."

"What did he say?" Severus persists, following me to my room. "Mercy!"

"Nothing, Severus."

"Tell me!"

"No! It's fine!"

"Nothing is fine, stop saying that!"

I sit down on my bed, where lunch is waiting for me. "Everything is fine," I insist. "Here, you can have my roll," I say, and shove it into his mouth as he opens it to protest.

"Mercy!" he splutters, spitting it out of his mouth. "I don't want your stupid roll!"

"Some of my salad? I don't like rabbit food."

"No!"

"A kiss? I can give you that."

"No," he says, a little less forcefully. "What did Malfoy say to you?"

"Nothing."

"It was about me, wasn't it?"

"No."

"You're a bad liar."

"It wasn't about you!"

"Fine. You'd think spending all that time with Carter would improve your lying."

"What do you mean?"

"He can lie and convince you that it's just a bonfire while the world burns around you. It's how he escapes most of the pressure from the Slytherins."

"Most?"

"Well, he's not a perfect liar."

"What do they do?"

"I don't know, okay? I stay out of the common rooms and I don't play Quidditch so I'm never in the locker rooms."

"You share a room, though."

"Yeah, well..."

"Severus, tell me."

"Why do I have to tell you anything if you won't tell me anything?"

"Severus," I say, scooching to the side of the bed and putting my face close to his. He reaches out and slides a hand to the back of my neck, but when he moves closer, I move my lips away from his. "Tell me."

"This isn't fair," he complains, as I smugly rest my elbows on his shoulders.

"Severus..."

"They usually just do little things. They elbow him, or step on his toes, or sometimes they slam doors on his fingers and pinch him or nick him with their quills. And they call him names and stuff. He can usually ignore them, but he's got scabs and bruises all over."

I pull away from him. "Bastards."

"Calm down, Mercy."

"How can they bully him?! Carter is the sweetest person in the world."

"The sweet don't survive."

"That's despicable."

"It's how the world works."

"Well, it's not how it should."

"You can't do anything to them or you'll be hurt as well."

"Who cares? If its for any of you, who's to say I wouldn't do it?"

"You can't."

"I can do whatever I want."

"We won't let you. Not me, not Felix, not either of the Blacks, or Lupin, or Lily. We won't let you."

"That's not stopping me. You can't stop me from helping someone who needs help."

"You'd be endangering yourself."

"I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much."

He rolls his eyes. "Eat your rabbit food."

I eat my rabbit food, and Severus does his homework, then looks over mine, bored.

"Let me see your hands," he says, so I hold out my hands. "You're shaking," he proclaims. "It makes your handwriting incorrigible."

"It doesn't matter," I roll my eyes. "I did it fast."

"Aren't you bored?"

"Not really. I have a lot to think about."

"I'm bored."

"Oh, well, sit up here, and you can catch me up on Potions. Remus didn't take any notes on it, and I'm sure we have homework."

He obeys, kicking off his shoes and an hour and a half later he finishes telling me about whatever Slughorn was teaching. Severus stretches, and looks at me a bit shyly before asking me, "What did it feel like, the _Cruciatus_ curse?"

"Like being sucked into yourself and all of the things you hold onto you forget about, and the world vanishes and becomes just you, and the pain. Rips through you and becomes your friend, it pulses through you and hurts so much you could almost say it felt quite nice. It drives you crazy, because it doesn't seem to stop for a lifetime."

"Dolohov did manage to point his wand at you for over half a minute because Rowle was trying to stun us. You were screaming for about, I don't know, ten."

"It's a bit stupid, I suppose. It's just pain. I've broken my spine in the accident and been shot at and everything, so I don't know why this time it hurt so much. Maybe because it's been years since America."

Severus nods, and straightens his legs in front of him, so that his feet extend past mine, leaning his arm into my shoulder. "It's alright."

"Of course. You're here, there's no one else bothering me except for you, I don't really need to worry about things until I step out into the hallway again, and I suspect you're just trying to snog me."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know, but just for right now, everything is alright." Just for now, in a still, sunlit hospital room with two broken people sitting side by side, wondering what the hell they're going to do once they get back to school and the world continues to fall around their ears.

"I guess you're right," Severus says.

"About which parts?"

"All of them."

"I knew it."

He shakes his head and laughs, swinging his arm around my shoulders and sighing like he couldn't be happier. "Just for now, things are fine," he says to himself. "Just for now." Then he turns to me and I kiss him before he can say anything else.

The door opens, a minute later, and Severus makes a point of kissing me for a second longer even though I'm pushing him away. He just sort of looks at Felix, who stands there, with mild surprise, still with his hand around my waist.

"Hello," he says calmly.

"It's okay," Felix says, looking at my alarmed expression. "I figured."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay! Really. I came to you because I knew, and I wanted to tell you, anyway. At least now it's not as awkward."

"What are you talking about? This is very awkward. How did you know?"

"I'm in the smart house, remember?"

"Felix-"

"I don't mind, really. You're a good friend."

"I-"

"It's okay, Mercy, I'm not upset. I- Severus is okay."

"But-"

He turns and leaves.

"Sorry," Severus says. "But you heard him."

"What-"

He kisses me again, and when we break apart, I protest. "Sev, I really don't think-"

"It's fine, he told me it was okay."

" _He_ told _you_?"

"Yeah, yesterday or something."

"Listen, I've just lost my boyfriend-"

"And you don't mind. I can see it."

I frown, and he laughs. "Well," I sigh loudly, "you're not wrong."

"If you don't want to, it's okay."

"Yeah, alright. Gah- Come here, damn you." I brush his hair from his face as I lean towards him and he takes my lower lip between his lips, and in a few more moments we're back to fighting for whose tongue is in whose mouth.

"When do you ever intend on telling your friends you don't want to follow Voldemort?"

Severus flinches. "Don't say his name."

"I'll do whatever I want."

"He's powerful, Mercy, they're growing to be devoted to him. I can't say anything without forever after being eternal held in suspicion and hatred."

"I don't know how you stand it. I'd've probably jinxed them long ago and walked out on them."

"I'm not cut out to be the defier, not like Carter, not like you."

"It doesn't matter, as long as you do it."

"I can't risk it, alright? If you haven't heard, Bellatrix Black has been going around attacking the friends of those who have openly defied the Dark Lord and you know what she's like. She doesn't know when to stop. She doesn't _want_ to stop. She's missing screws, and I want to make sure she's as far from you and Lily as possible."

"I don't need you to protect me," I snap. "Look, Sev, if it's bothering you that much, I'll just-"

"No. I know what you're going to say, and no."

"If that's what it takes, I'd like to make sure my friends are safe as well."

"No."

"If you think you can protect us all on your own, you're wrong."

"You don't need to join the dark to keep it away! I'm already in a position where I can't get out, you shouldn't get caught in it as well."

"You can't be alone."

"I've been- I am!"

"No you're not! If you're alone, what am I? Are you telling me that even if you snog me until I die you still think you're alone? Are you saying that what _I_ thought was two lonely people making friends isn't real? Tell me, Severus, do you think that I don't feel alone, sitting in an empty hospital room, even though I've got heaps of friends? You say that I'm not alone and yet I feel like the loneliest person in the world. You are not alone, just like me, Severus, and the sooner you realize it, the smarter you'll be."

"But I can't let you join the... the dark side."

"It's not your decision. I'll join you if I want. I notice things as well, you know. I notice Sirius avoiding them, and Regulus drowning in the pressure they hold over him, and Remus trying to watch out for all of the stupid Marauders, and Lily trying to get you away from them, and Felix trying to shelter me even though I don't want to be sheltered. I don't even know what to call them, only that they're bad people who'd do well to stay away from my friends."

"And you want to join them!"

"Not join them! You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Well, if you really want to know, they tell you to do things you don't want to do. They destroy your moral boundaries and tell you to kill the muggle born, they tell you things that aren't true, they make you join in their pursuit of the Dark Arts even if you don't want to, they invite you to their tall, silent houses for dinners with their parents who have as much love of the Dark Lord as their children do. They force you to accept their bullying and you can't tell them not to hurt other people and you must have undying devotion the their master. They watch every move you make and tell others about it if it's of interest, they learn spells that people should never use, they're inebriated with dark things that you would never ever condone in your life. Mercy, you're opinionated, and they're looking for blind following. Unless you can lie and act better than they can read you- and some of them have practiced Occlumency- it's impossible to follow their crowd and not truly be with them."

"I don't care. I have standards that can't be knocked down, but if I have to act to keep people safe, I will. This isn't just a phase, it's growing. You know that, you're part of it. You're the only one that seems to be remotely able to resist- Regulus is too scared. I can help!"

"No, Mercy."

"You say that now, but if any one of my friends get hurt, including you, I'm joining and you can't stop me."

"You think you can manipulate them from the inside, but you can't."

"Then how do you expect to keep them from Lily?"

"That's different. That's association. You're associated with good things, and in order to be safe, I need to be associated to the things only they approve of."

"I'd join the war front with you," I say stubbornly.

"I know, I know."

I stand up, and he looks at me with mild alarm, as if afraid I'd march straight to Malfoy. He stands as well, but all I do is turn and open a window. "I'm going back to school tomorrow," I mention.

"Can you?"

"Of course."

"Well, you _are_ back to arguing again."

"Ha ha."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"You look sick."

"No I don't."

"Your eyes are red and you look like the world has ended."

"To be fair, I've just experienced severe emotional trauma."

"So are you okay?"

"Yes."

"No, you're not. You're upset."

"I'm always upset."

"What are you upset about?"

"Nothing."

"I thought you said you were always upset?"

"I don't know. The pain sort of haunts me. It's not actually there, but I'll think about it and my entire body tenses and it feels almost like it's back again."

"That should fade," he says. "If it's in your head- if it's psychosomatic."

"I hope. I dream about it. When I'm not talking to someone, I think about it. It's dumb, but it scared me."

"It has a worse effect when you're younger," he tells me. "Because we don't forget as easily as adults."

"It's stupid though. It was just physical pain. I should be able to put it aside."

"It knocked you out for four days."

"I was just unconscious."

"For four days! It's not something to take lightly."

"Does it look like I'm taking it lightly?"

"No, but you're acting like you are, which means you're trying to convince yourself that it's no big deal."

"I am. Because it isn't."

"It is."

"I can get over this easily."

"Alright."

I turn to face him. "I can, can't I?"

"You can. We'll help you. It's alright, Mercy. We've got you. Relax. You're acting absolutely paranoid, like there's something following you or something."

"It left me feeling absolutely zilch. I haven't been happy since that day, and all I've been doing is getting angry. Well, all except when..." I trail off, ripping my gaze away from the floor to look at Severus, who smiles a little.

"Well, I'm flattered, I'm sure."

"Shut up. Don't you have dinner to get to?"

"I'll stay here."

"Oh, come on."

"You can't get rid of me, I'm afraid."

I laugh. "Couldn't if I tried," I agree, and he grins back.

Dinner comes forty five minutes later, which is pasta and chicken. Severus eats all the chicken before I can, so I'm stuck with the pasta and the dessert, giving him the roll again.

"No fair," he complains. "I want ice cream."

"Here." I stick a spoon full in his mouth and then let him have the other half of the cup of ice cream.

He finishes it in record time and then drinks all of my milk. "Hey! Stop stealing my food."

"I'm hungry, too."

"You've eaten a shoe? How dreadfully funny."

"I found a _penny_ as well, on the floor."

"The ocean _shore_ really is my favorite place."

"I do indeed wonder why of all the people in the world you chose me to give _chase_."

"That's because I love you."

"You lose."

"I do."

"It didn't rhyme."

"Stop being shy all of a sudden."

"Well, actually, you just really like everyone, don't you. You flirt with everyone you know. I'm just wishy washy enough to fall for it."

"Nah, don't lie to yourself."

"You do."

"Yeah, maybe, but if I'd wanted to get someone else I would've."

"Lies."

"I'm pretty good at getting what I want, you know. When I moved here the Sorting Hat nearly made me Slytherin."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But I'd already met Lily, so I sort of wanted to be in Gryffindor. So that's where I went."

"Too bad. We'd have loved to have you."

"You would've, you mean."

"Exactly."

"Whatever."

"You just like arguing, don't you. If you're right about something, you lose interest in it."

"Oh, so, Severus Snape has finally figured out what I look for in men."

"Shut up."

"That's how you knew I was okay to snog, because Felix is predictable and you knew is lost interest."

"That's not it."

"Right."

"I was just relieved you were conscious."

"Riiight."

"Really."

"Mm hmm."

"I'm serious!"

"No, you're Severus."

He rolls his eyes. "Bad joke."

"The best one! That's a classic."

"Let's forget you ever made that joke."

"It was pretty good."

"No it wasn't."

"Are you going to argue with me about the most classic joke of all time?"

"You like people who argue, don't you?"

"Point."

He grins and kisses me. "I'm usually right, in case you didn't already realize."

"Lies. You're wrong all the time."

"Like when?"

"Like ' _Oh, I'm all alone_ ' and ' _It's going to be alright_.'"

"Well the last one isn't me being wrong, it's me lying."

"Same thing. Lying is wrong."

He rolls his eyes so hard I'm afraid that his eyeballs will fall out of his face, and by the time it's dark outside, I've fallen asleep, nestled into Severus, who's idly flicking through Remus' notes and using his wand as a light.

"Hey! Wake up!"

"What? What?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes?"

"You were crying."

"No, I wasn't."

"Look." In the dark I see Severus wipe his hand across my cheeks and his fingers come away wet. "You were."

"Well, I'm not now."

"As long as you're okay," he says doubtfully, and then lies back down and immediately falls straight back to asleep again.

Severus wakes me up again in the morning, and I bury my face under the pillow and push him away. "Mercy, wake up," he says again, shaking me.

"No," I say, voice muffled, squinting my eyes shut..

"Come on, you have school."

"No."

"Get up!"

"No!"

"Stop being difficult."

"Nooo."

"There's breakfast."

"Where?" I ask, sitting up and looking blearily around.

"In the castle. Come on."

I groan. "Leave me alone. Just let me sleep."

"Well, if you're up now, it's not as much of a problem."

"No," I say, but he catches me before I can lay back down, and hoists me bridal style down the hall, dragging his bag down the hall after him. "No!" I protest, laughing, and push him away. "I don't have my shoes on!"

"Too late now," he says, grinning widely and letting me down, grabbing my hand and grabbing whatever portkey there was. We spin out of St. Mungo's and Severus grips me so tight that I'm afraid I'll lose circulation in my arms, but I'm also glad I'm not going to go flying out into the great unknown. We touch down in front of the castle, where Severus promptly drops me onto the grass, then looks around his bag and hands me my homework.

"There you go, Cinderella," he says. "Got to go."

I grab his tie, yank him towards me and kiss him. He looks alarmed for a moment, kisses back for as long as he dares, then dashes off into the castle. After putting my homework back into order, I look at my bare feet, take the time to wiggle my toes a bit, and find my wand between the parchment of my Potions essay, on which Severus had basically rewritten the second paragraph and asked me " _Do you even know what the word 'Potions' means? Honestly, you're as bad as a first year at this sort of thing_.".

I walk into the Great Hall and everyone falls silent, turning to look at me with curious stares. Severus lifts his eyebrows imperceptibly from where he sits at the end of the Slytherin table, Regulus looks at me, and looks like he wants to wave, but doesn't, and Carter is nowhere to be found. I frown, slinking over to where Sirius waves frantically at me, and sit down.

"They're all staring at you," he says cheerfully. "You must be hungry. Here." He hands me a pasty and I cram it into my mouth, chewing hard and looking up at the professor's table, where I swear to God McGonagall and Slughorn are dying. McGonagall keeps shaking her head and Slughorn is asking her for something, jabbing his finger empathetically at me, and then Severus.

"So, how was it, Gaffery?" Potter asks, leaning over from where he sits on the other side of Sirius. "How much did it hurt?"

Remus smacks him hard, and he yelps. "Sorry!"

"I swear, Prongs, you have no tact whatso-"

"He called me Prongs!" James says excitedly, turning to Sirius. "Did you hear that, Padfoot?"

"What does that even mean?" I mutter, reaching to fill my plate.

"I'll tell you later," Sirius says.

"Don't tell her!" James protests, knocking Sirius on the head. "It's our secret."

"Fine, fine," Sirius says, rolling his eyes, then turning to me and winking. "Anyway, you've actually managed to do your homework, I see."

"Yeah, Remus brought the notes, remember?"

"No. But that's probably why he wouldn't let me use his notes last night. I haven't done the Potions essay, can I see yours?"

"Not if you haven't done yours."

"It's not like I'll copy."

"Lies. I know you."

"No!"

He snatches up my homework and rifles through it. "Well, Mercy, it looks as if you did pretty bad, if- who's writing is this, is it Carter's?- had to correct it so much."

"Well, I wasn't there for the lesson, how am I supposed to know?"

"Well, with friends like this, you won't even have to be at the class. Believe me, I sponge off of Moony's notes enough to know."

"Well, it's a wonder you haven't failed classes yet."

"I am rather good at Transfiguration," Sirius says, and Potter elbows him so hard Sirius falls off of the bench. Sirius grabs James and they start to wrestle.

"Alright, you two dunces," Remus says. "Stop it."

"No shoes?" Sirius asks me, holding Potter back as he flails out at him.

"No."

Remus drags the two away from each other, with that long suffering parent face McGonagall often wears when dealing with misbehaving students. McGonagall, at this instant, is letting Remus do her job for her, continuing to argue with Slughorn, even Sprout and Flitwick joining in, until Dumbledore tells them to shut up.

"We've got Charms," Remus says, "with the Slytherins."

"It's Friday?"

"It is."

"Then the Hogsmeade trip is tomorrow."

"Oh, so you're still planning on going?"

"Of course I am."

"Well, just making sure you're still feeling up to it. Who're you going with?"

"Fe-" I stop, realizing that I'm probably _not_ going to Hogsmeade with Felix. "I mean, I don't know."

Remus looks at me, curious. "Something happen with Felix?"

"Yeah, well, we aren't dating anymore."

"I'm sorry."

"Weirdly enough, I'm not really. Not that I didn't like him, but he was just sort of one of those unserious things."

"Did someone say Sirius?" Sirius asks.

"No, get out."

"So you're over Felix already? That was fast. And Sunday we've still got that gig at the Three Broomsticks. D'you want to cancel?"

"What are we even singing?" I ask.

"Something. Only a few songs. Don't worry, Sprout got it all planned for us. I don't even know what we're singing. We have Herbology after lunch today, we can ask her then."

I roll my eyes.

"Well," Remus interrupts, "If you don't have plans for Hogsmeade, I'd go with you."

"Sure," I agree. "That sounds nice."

"Moony!" Sirius says, aghast. "You're quick to move in! You're abandoning us for a girl?"

"A girl that you like as well, Sirius. It's not that bad. Besides. I need a break from you three sometimes," Remus says, reaching over and messing Peter's hair beyond all salvageable recognition.

"Hey!" Peter protests. "I don't want it to look like James'!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Potter asks, indignant.

"Where's Lily?" I ask.

"Back there," Potter complains, pointing behind him to where Lily is talking to a few other girls I've never talked to in my life. "With her friends. She still won't sit with me for classes."

"And she won't if you keep being a jerk to Severus."

" _Snivellus_ isn't worth being her friend."

"Don't call him that," I snap.

"Why not?"

"It's not nice."

"I don't care about being nice to him."

I stop walking and get up into his face, jabbing my wand into his chest. "Well. You should, don't you think?"

"I-I- Merlin, get out of my face, Gaffery! Please don't kill me."

"Maybe I will," I say, drawing away, glaring, and he looks very faintly afraid.

"Alright, Mercy, come on," Remus says, grabbing my arm and dragging me away. "We'll be late for class."

I sit down next to Remus, at the back of the class, and Carter sees me and heads for the back of the class. Someone already sitting sticks out a foot and Carter stumbles, wincing as someone else stomps on his foot. I stand violently, but Remus grabs the back of my shirt and yanks me back down.

"Relax, Mercy!" he hisses, as Carter sits down beside me.

"Hey, Mercy," he says easily, as if nothing is wrong, but slouching in his chair like he doesn't want to be seen.

"H-hi, Carter."

"Do you want to head to the bookstore with Mercy and I tomorrow?" Remus asks, and I shoot him a grateful smile.

"Sure," Carter shrugs, smiling his usual, breathtaking smile. "Glad to see you back, Mere."

I grin, and impulsively reach out and grab his hand. He looks a bit surprised, before his expression melts into another smile.

"Emotional little Mercy is back," he teases, "and I couldn't be happier, to be honest." He's left handed and I'm right handed, so we progress into the lesson without letting go. When we begin to practice Summoning spells, he lets go with somewhat of a wistful smile. I manage to Summon a book straight into the head of the Slytherin that had tripped Carter, and Remus accidentally smacks the Slytherin that had stomped Carter's foot with a vase, which shatters once it hits him.

From the other side of the room, Severus glances over at me and shakes his head, telling me to stop, before one of the Carrows yells at him to regain his attention. He turns back to them, rolling his eyes slightly. Class finishes shortly after and everyone leaves the room in the usual rush. I lag back, taking an extra long time to re-pack my bag, until there are only a few people left in the room, including Carter.

"Carter," I say, turning to him. "Are you alright?"

"Of course I am. Why?"

"I don't know. There seem to be a lot of people... who don't like you."

"Ah, well, you can't please everybody, so you've gotta please yourself. It's fine. I can look after myself. I'm hungry, are you? Yeah, I'm headed off to lunch. See you, Mere."

"But-"

He breezes right past me, and walks out of the room. I stand there, watching him go, then sigh. There's now no one else in the room except Severus and Flitwick. Flitwick, on his part, seems to be taking especially long to leave the room, and Severus isn't really moving any faster- I think he's reading something or writing something down, so I walk over to him.

"Hey, Sev."

He looks up, casting his hair into his face and shutting his book. "Hi."

"Hungry?"

"Not really."

"Me neither. Let's get out of here."

"Let me pack my things," he complains, glancing at Flitwick, who is very unsuccessfully attempting to spy on our conversation. Severus flicks his wand, quickly, muttering out a spell, and Flitwick straightens and looks vaguely disappointed.

"What was that?"

" _Muffliato_. It makes it so people can't eavesdrop. You know, Mercy, I wouldn't do things like... trying to get revenge or whatever you think it is."

"I know. But it's so... I don't know. It makes me mad when they beat up on Carter like that." I hand him his wand. "Here."

"Thanks." He takes the wand from me, and stands, leaning forward very briefly, lips nearly touching my forehead. Flitwick drops something, and all of us jump, turning to look at him. He looks flustered, but excited anyway, as he hurries out of the classroom.

...

Filius Flitwick hurries out of the room and catches Minerva right before she steps out of her office. "Minerva!"

"What is it, Filius?"

"You lost the bet."

"I did _not_ ," the professor says, drawing herself up indignantly.

"Well, if you hurry, you can catch it before it ends."

"Before _what_ ends, exactly?" she asks, following the short man as he dashes through the hall.

"Snape and Gaffery!" he pants. "I had the Slytherins and the Gryffindors just now, and they were talking, and... just hurry, and you can see yourself."

They arrive at the door of the classroom, where they lean cautiously towards the crack in the door, Flitwick, looking through right by the door knob, and McGonagall looking through the the space between the door farther above.

"Look at Snape!" Flitwick says, and McGonagall shushes him. But Snape really did surprise her, sitting on his desk with all the confidence and casualness one usually only sees in a Black, leaning back on one hand, with his hair out of his face and his shoulders squared, back lit by the light streaming through the window. He's looking at Gaffery, who's back is towards the door, but from Snape's irritated expression McGonagall is pretty sure she's smirking.

Snape sighs, and runs a hand through his hair in a very self- conscious, Potter-esque gesture, which also surprises both professors. "I wish you weren't so- I don't know, what's the word, passionate?- about everything. It'd keep you out of trouble."

"Trouble is one of the things I live for," Gaffery says, and Snape laughs, which is something neither professor has heard before.

He reaches out and she takes his hand. He twirls her around once, her skirt and hair flaring out, the two of them silhouetted by gold leaking in from outside, her smile the most striking thing about the scene. And just the sheer affection in his expression when he looks at her makes McGonagall choke up. "And what else do you live for, hm, Ms. Gaffery?"

"Chocolate. Oh, and cars. And maybe dark and handsome English boys with some dangerous undertones."

"Are you flirting with me?" he asks, a genuinely happy smile lifting a corner of his mouth.

"Only if you consider yourself a dark and dangerous boy."

"I believe that I would," he admits.

"Then yes, I am flirting with you."

"As usual," he teases.

"As usual," she agree.

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be," she says. "It's more for my own benefit."

He laughs and shakes his head. "You're just always asking for it, aren't you."

"No, I'm not. People just find me naturally attractive. I can't help it. Or maybe it's just you. You're the only one who's told me that."

Snape tilts his head, so he's looking at the ceiling. "You're the only one who told _me_ that."

"I did, didn't I. It's perfect, then, you and I."

"If you say so."

"Oh, come on, Severus."

"Fine, fine, you're right." He rolls his eyes but smiles anyway, looking back at her. Flitwick and McGonagall straighten and walk away when Snape leans towards Gaffery, eyelids fluttering shut.

"Just admit you've lost the four galleons," Flitwick says, as they head down the hallway. "Minerva? Are you alright?"

"But it's so... it's so..."

"You-"

"I can't believe I actually _like_ them together!" she explodes, startling a couple of first years as the two professors walk down the stairs. "I think they're _adorable_! How is that possible?! I never expected Snape to be able to be so... so _charming_! That look on his face when he spun her around- Merlin, I wish someone would look at _me_ that way! And did you see the hair combing thing? The Potter hair combing thing? Good _Lord_!"

Flitwick rolls his eyes. "Pomona will be crushed, I'm sure. She still thinks Gaffery should be with Sirius Black."

"Gah, Black is a loose canon. Both the Blacks. Regulus Black is drowning in all that business with this 'You-Know-Who', and Sirius Black is absolutely insane!"

"You're only saying that because he always seems to go for you when he's out pranking with Potter. Besides. He's close to Gaffery, as well. They like each other well enough."

"You don't think it will ever actually work out between Snape and Gaffery? One of Snape's friends _crucio_ ed her!"

"I think Sirius Black has the same amount of energy and can match Gaffery any time they decide. Just look at them singing, for example," Flitwick says diplomatically. "Firecrackers."

"Am I the only one who hasn't gone to their little fake concerts?"

"People are travelling to see them!"

"Well, I was not aware that they were singing at all until last week when Pomona mentioned it!" McGonagall says, as the enter the Great Hall and take their places down at the professor's table. "Horace! Here." She reaches over and slaps four galleons on the table beside Slughorn.

"Minerva!" Sprout cries. "Surely you haven't admitted defeat."

"I have wholeheartedly and enthusiastically admitted defeat!" McGonagall says adamantly.

"Did Minerva McGonagall just say what I think she did?" Slughorn asks, gleefully counting the money and pocketing it. "Has she really admitted defeat for the first time in her life? I wish I had recorded that!"

"You need to _see_ them to believe it!" she insists.

"Well, I still don't think-" Sprout begins, and then stops.

"Hello, staff," Dumbledore says, descending to the table. "What are we so heatedly discussing today?"

"Nothing," Flitwick says quickly.

"It's about Mercy Gaffery, isn't it?"

"No, why ever would you think that, Albus?" the Charms professor asks, nonchalantly.

Dumbledore smiles and rolls his eyes. "Because I know my staff very well. Personally, if you've ever had considered asking me, you'd know I think the best one for her is Mr. Natsworthy."

" _Albus!_ I didn't know you were in this as well," McGonagall says, surprised. "Why?"

"Because he's stable enough and Mercy Gaffery is decidedly _not_ stable."

"What do you mean?"

"You know her. Her past. Pairing her with all these equally unstable people is not going to do well for her."

"Snape's pretty stable," Flitwick points out.

"Maybe, but his friends aren't."

"Well, at least she has people to be paired _with,"_ Sprout shrugs. "I was never friends with that many boys when I was at school."

"You were never friends with that many boys, period," McGonagall says, and Sprout makes a face at her. "You scared them all away, if I'm honest."

"She doesn't like girls," Flitwick says, unexpectedly. "Gaffery. She's sort of afraid of them."

"Smart of her," Slughorn says, before shoving his face with a piece of steak. "Girls scare me as well."

"Well, she's _weirdly_ afraid of them," Flitwick tries to explain. "Like, sure, she's friends with Lily Evans, but how can you _not_ be friends with Lily Evans? But she actively avoids other girls. Its not as if she were unattractive, but she hangs out with boys a lot as a conscious decision to keep her away from girls."

Dumbledore speaks up. "She doesn't like them because in America there was am entirely female coven and they kept following her and her family around. I'm sure after a while, to the younger Mercy Gaffery, it seemed like all females were out to kill her."

"What about her mother? Surely that's a problem that any parent would be able to solve," Sprout says. "Scared of females indeed. She _is_ a female!"

"Her mother was part of it, at the end, as well."

"Her own mother wanted to kill her?! Why?!"

"Not because she didn't like her, only because she had to."

"How do you know that?"

"Her aunt sent me a letter outlining her... rather extensively strange history. You know, I told all of you about it."

"I don't remember."

"Too busy shipping students together."

"How do you even know that phrase, Albus?!" Sprout asks, surprised.

"I pay attention to my staff, you know."

"It's weird discussing this with you, Albus."

"Yes, so maybe you will now stop discussing it at all?"

"Is that a question? Or a command?"

"Maybe it's both?"

"You can tell us things, you know," Flitwick says. "You hired us in the first place, after all."

The headmaster inclines his head. "Well, I admit that Ms. Gaffery can be quite charming, and that the four of you are rather bored, but need I remind you that there are more pressing matters arising?"

"What pressing matters?" Slughorn asks, and McGonagall resists the urge to smack her forehead in exasperation.

"Voldemort," Dumbledore says bluntly, and everyone flinches. "Dealing with Voldemort is more important that any student romances that the four of you usually fool around with. Don't think I didn't notice you putting Frank and Alice Longbottom together all the time."

"Albus, _you_ made them Head girl and Head boy!"

"Whatever. What matters is that we need to protect our students."

"Some of the students are in with 'You-Know-Who' himself!"

"We still need to protect our students. It's our ultimate job as professors here, is it not?"

 **Hi yes I've never written romance before but please review I'll love you forever**


	13. wow what even am I doing

**hellooooooo everybody i am back yes i am. So i quite like this story, if i'm honest, i don't know if anyone even reads this anymore, but i'm planning on continuing this (if i don't go insane, it's the end of the school year gah) and if not in the immediate fuuture, then definitely over the summer. :)**

 **here's what i found that i hadn't posted yet- but i'll be the first one to admit that I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON IN ThIS FIC WHATTTT like who are these ocs and why do they keep making out**

 **quite excited to be back! enjoy! :)**

Katica

"What's wrong with you?" Oliver asks me, as we walk out to the Quidditch pitch. Percy's not here, we're not really sure where he actually is, but we're going out to the pitch so that we can fly around. Oliver got this crackpot idea that there's some way to get up to the clock tower, which isn't allowed, not from inside the castle but from outside.

"Well, long live the right to die," I say, resignedly. "McGonagall and Snape are soooo going to kill us."

"Only if we get caught. You spend too much time worrying with Percy. Come on!"

Oliver spells the lock on the broom shed open, and we're up in the air in a few more minutes.

"What if it's not open from the outside?" I yell over to him.

"It has to be!"

"How are you so sure?!"

"You can't question this kind of thing, Kat, you just have to go with it, alright?!"

We soar around the corner of the school and hover in front of the enormous clock face.

"There aren't any openings!"

Oliver shakes his head and points. In the corners, where the circular clock face had been molded into the square opening, are triangles of space, and the two of us make for the nearest one.

"Damn. I don't think you can fit inside!" I call.

"That's what she said!" Oliver says gleefully.

"That doesn't even make sense!" I call back, making a face.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Try to get in, already!"

I edge off of my broom and stand on the ledge, terrified that I'll fall off of it. Oliver hovers nearby, ready to catch me if I fall, and I crouch down and tumble through the hole. It's dark, and the air is knocked from my lungs.

" _Well?_ " Oliver calls.

"I can't see!"

"Use your wand, you dunce!"

"Right." I say, but just lift my hands and conjure up a ball of light in my palms. Screw Snape and his stupid lessons. "It's just really dusty clockwork," I call back to Oliver.

"Is there like a door I can get in through?"

"Uh, yeah, but it's from inside the school."

"Okay, well _open_ it!"

"Alright, alright! Give me a moment! Geez!"

Mercy

After lunch, Sirius and I see Sprout early before class. "Oh! Well, I was just looking for you two." She hands us a piece a paper and Sirius looks over. "There. That's okay for tomorrow, right? I toned it down a bit for you...?"

"Is that okay?" Sirius asks, looking at me. I give the list a cursory glance, but don't look too closely at it, only seeing that there are only three or four songs.

"Yeah, of course. Why not?"

He shrugs. "If you're not up to it..."

"No, this looks pretty good."

"Alright," Sirius nods, and grins. "Thanks, Professor." He swings an arm around my shoulders and shows me the list. "You sure it's okay?"

"Yeah."

"Alright."

Sprout has this concerned smile on her face, and I scowl as Sirius whisks me away. "Don't take it as offense," he says, noting my expression. "She's just looking out for you."

"I know."

"She watered down everything for you, look."

"I saw."

"You're annoyed, aren't you."

"A little," I admit. "I'm feeling fine, I don't know why people keep acting like I'm not."

"Because you aren't?"

"I am."

"Fine, then. Come on, we're not doing anything after this class, we can practice a bit. If you're not feeling tired?"

I open my mouth to yell at him for asking, and then see he's just teasing me, smirking down at me with an eyebrow raised. "Sure. Whatever," I mutter. "Idiot."

"You know you love me," he sings. "I know you care."

"Oh, fucking hell, Sirius. Not that song," I complain, and his grin widens across his face.

"Just shout whenever, and I'll be there."

"SIRIUS!"

"What, not feeling the- looooove?"

"Ah, you're such a weirdo," I laugh, pushing him away. "Leave me, humiliation."

"Never," he says, and leaps onto my back. "You'll never get rid of me!"

"Merlin! Sirius!" I stagger forward and we go careening into a bunch of Hufflepuffs as Sirius makes cowboy noises and kicks me. "You're heavy!"

"Horses don't talk! They're not smart enough!" he informs me, nearly choking me as he grips my shoulders and neck in an efforts to not fall off.

"Well then you should be the horse!" I holler. "Felix! Watch ooooout!"

The two of us go flying into Felix and Remus, where they stand talking, and Sirius is thrown straight over my head and into Remus. He shouts in surprise and stumbles backwards as Sirius barrels into him head first.

"What are you two doing?!" Remus scolds, helping Sirius up. "Idiots."

Felix looks at me, then reaches down a hand and I take it. He pulls me up hard, catches me neatly by the waist and then grins. "Hi."

"H-hello." I stammer, embarrassed.

"So you and Severus still coming to the bookstore with us tomorrow?"

"Um...?" I stall, looking at Remus, who nods vigorously and mouths the word 'Go' to me. "We could still?"

"Of course. Unless that's uncomfortable?"

"The ship has sunk," Sirius announces sadly. "My OTP is over."

"Stop saying that! Your OTP is you and-"

Sirius smacks a hand over my mouth and scowls, flushing slightly. "It isn't."

"Yes, it is," I say, freeing myself. "You told me."

"Well I lied."

"No, you didn't. I could tell."

Class starts, interrupting us, and afterwards, Felix asks a second time whether I'm coming to Hogsmeade with him.

"Sure. I'm down."

 **Yeah this is the only thing I had left written and I need to read the rest to figure out what's going on. Also i'm not even sure I've posted Mercy's section before. I might've. (Wow A+ writer right here)**

 **And, hey! If you're still out there, give a shout and I'll probably be more motivated to write more. I guess. I'll keep writing even if you don't. ;) Love you haha**


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